Emma: J&C 4a Jane and the Vanishing Valet
by slytherinsal
Summary: Jane and her Bow Street Runner husband, Caleb, are invited for Christmas to stay with the uncle of Araminta Coate, whom they helped in 'Jane and the Scandal at Bow Street'. What should be a merry Christmas party is marred when their host is the subject of a murderous attack and theft and at the same time, his son's new valet goes missing in suspicious circumstances.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

"Mrs Armitage, I am of course grateful to you for your care of my niece, but now I am back in England, I really feel that I should get to know her by inviting her for Christmas," said Major Coate. "I obviously extend the invitation to your whole family; it would be indefensible to take Araminta out of the company of the only people she sees as family at the moment."

"That, Major, puts me in better charity with you than I ever was with your brother – that you think of your niece's comfort," said Jane, "and I do think it is important that she should know the family that her father's jealousy and spite prevented her from meeting."

"I have spoken to Sir Nathanial Conant about my brother," said the Major, sadly, "and I fear that he had a flaw in his character. I believe it has surfaces occasionally in our family; we had a most unsatisfactory ancestor who was a pirate in the times of James II, and not in any wise a romantic character, I assure you, but notorious for his cruelty and tendencies towards every venal sin whilst sacking the unfortunate towns in the Caribbean without even any pretence towards patriotism as he visited pillage and rapine equally on all nations."

"One might hope the line has died with William Coate; for there is no indication of such tendency in his daughter," said Jane.

"Indeed, I do hope so," said the Major. He hesitated. "I – I am also acquainted with Major Sir Henry Wilton, who is known to your husband. He has spoken very highly of him and has told me that if he had had the freedom to do so, he would have provided Armitage with a cornetcy and opportunities to rise. Would it, do you think, offend your husband if I thanked you both for the care you have given my niece if I purchased him a captaincy that might then be sold on, so that he could claim the rank legitimately? Sir Nathanial says that he has found your husband's abilities to – well, to become indeed a gentleman most useful, and being an officer it would no longer be a dissembling that could be used against him."

"Major, I consider that a very cunning idea," said Jane, "and one I will put to my husband as soon as he returns from court. If Major Sir Henry Wilton is willing to encourage this scheme, I think that Caleb will be ready to fall in with it; especially as it would mean that he could not be coerced by some gently-born villain who thought to use it as a means to escape justice. He has, of course, never _lied_ about his origins, but his man and our son's tutor have colluded to put about the most outrageous of stories."

Major Coate laughed.

"Indeed; that he is the natural of the Duke of York, who probably had ten thousand offspring however many men he marched up and down hill," he said, "but rumour is only ever that. A solid captaincy would not come amiss, I think?"

"I think not," said Jane, "but then I am of the opinion that my husband could have supported the rank far better than many who actually held it."

"Sir Henry agrees," said Major Coate, dryly. "If you will but ask him to step by my lodging tomorrow evening, I am holding a small supper party and we shall plot. It's a gentlemen only affair," he added apologetically.

Jane gave a small, demure smile.

"Oh I am quite at ease in my husband's attendance at such affairs where a lady's ears are better by being absent," she said. "He has a fund of good stories too, which he has toned down to save my presence but which I suspect that Sir Henry will enjoy hearing in retrospect."

Jane reflected that it would make life much easier for Caleb in knowing that he had held the rank of Captain – however briefly – even in the line regiment in which he had enlisted, and risen to sergeant and batman to Major Wilton, who had served as acting Colonel for a while. She had been prepared to dislike Major Coate, anticipating that he intended being high-handed and insisting on removing Araminta from her care, and wresting her from Mrs Goddard's school in Highbury where the girl was supremely happy with her friends, the Redmayne sisters, and other girls too. That he was sensible of Araminta's needs made Jane feel quite warmly towards him and ready to fall in with his suggestions. As their town house was still leased to others it would, too, be a relief to spend Christmas in a large country manor. It would, with Araminta at home as well, be more comfortable than the rather cramped quarters in the smaller house she and Caleb had rented near London, in the once fashionable but now shabby-genteel village of Islington, to be near enough to Bow Street. Caleb also shared a room with a young lawyer in the city itself for the times when he was required early for being in court to give evidence. Even holding this second _pied a terre_ the combined rents were considerably less than they received from the town house in Pembridge Square. They were able to accrue money towards the eventuality of dowries for Frances and any other offspring as might happen along. Jane wanted to have children with Caleb, though she acknowledged his good sense in suggesting that having had two children in rapid succession, waiting for as long as the herbs and other precautions still continued to delay conception would be wise.

"I should like to meet Araminta, if I may," said the Major. "To come to the house party of a stranger cannot but be a strain on the sensibilities for a young girl at a vulnerable age."

"You are all that is sensitive, Major Coate," said Jane, "I am truly glad that Araminta has such a fine relative as yourself!"

"I need to try to do something to make up to the poor child for my brother's inadequacies," said Major Coate, "and I fancy I might be able to suggest something practical to help her too; you wrote to me that you had improved her walking with the use of a built up boot, such that she might even dance, so long as she does not feel too self-conscious about the heaviness of a boot. Well, I believe I may bring a further improvement to this scheme from the point of view of a military man."

"Indeed?" asked Jane, cautiously interested, "I have found such military men of my acquaintance to be generally quite ingenious, though apart from the father of my first husband, I am limited in my experience to the private soldiers who work for my husband."

The major laughed.

"I understand that they are as precious a set of villains as might be found anywhere," he said, "and of great assistance to Bow Street. I suppose the ingenuity really cannot be claimed by officers so much as their boot makers; you will have read, no doubt, of the Duchess of Richmond's ball before Waterloo, where many military guests attended in evening clothes and went forth onto the battlefield thus clad. Well, maybe some of them did so, but many wore a very useful boot called the dress boot-shoe; a perfectly good boot, but made in the semblance of a dancing pump at the foot, and the rest of the boot clad in fabric to resemble a stocking. For men, of course, the stockings are black, but I see no reason that a boot of light coloured leather should not have a white stocking for a lady's foot."

"Major, that is a most ingenious idea indeed!" said Jane. "I am most impressed, and I am sure Araminta will be delighted both by the idea, and by your kindness in thinking of it!"

Jane wrote a letter to Mrs Goddard, recommending the major to her, and begging on his behalf leave for Araminta to have a day out of school to come to the city with him, and see about the ordering of several pairs of such dress boot-shoes, and a necessary visit to Gunter's to eat ice-cream whilst the order was fulfilled. She wrote another letter to Araminta, explaining that she felt that Major Coate was cut from another cloth than the one Araminta's father was cut from, knowing that Araminta would enjoy the wordplay on the family name, and adjuring her to let him do his best as he seemed to be a man of excellently practical ideas.

Practical was probably the best compliment Jane could bestow upon anyone. The major would not set out for Highbury until such time as he had spoken with Caleb, but he might then drive out early the next morning if he so chose, and have the whole Saturday with Araminta.

Jane took her leave of the major, and spent some time hearing her stepson Simon's Latin whilst waiting for Caleb to return.

As it happened, Caleb had run into Sir Henry Wilton in the inns, where he was giving a deposition to be read out as a character reference for a soldier accused of armed robbery; and Sir Henry had taken Caleb to drink coffee and put the idea to him in person.

Caleb returned home a little late and, as he said to Jane, with his head spinning.

"Personally, I think it a most excellent scheme," said Jane.

"I'm inclined to agree, in terms of how useful it might be," said Caleb, "it was more that my head spun to consider that Sir Henry would pay me such a compliment."

Jane laughed.

"But you have been a captain before, my dear," she said.

Caleb looked puzzled.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Why, did you not tell the tale whereby you had a hasty promotion to captain in order to challenge that Brunswicker to a drinking contest?" asked Jane.

Caleb laughed.

"Ay, and threatened that if I lost, in the morning I would be demoted to pretty drummer girl! Yes, that is so, but I never really counted that!"

"I fancy that if Sir Henry had dared, he would have ratified the promotion," said Jane.

Caleb looked thoughtful.

"He might have done, at that," he admitted, "but we had a lot of subalterns and lieutenants of quite elevated families, who would not have taken kindly to a boy from a Soho rookery being promoted over their heads. To win a contest for the honour of the regiment, they would stand by me, and honour my temporary rank. If it had been permanent, I do not doubt that there would have been those who would have tried to undermine my position – especially as they felt themselves looked down on by those in cavalry regiments. As it happens, any promotion to captain this way will need a little chicanery, because of the rules about how long you are supposed to serve before buying the next promotion; but Sir Henry was telling me that he had put in for a field commission for me at Corunna, which I did not take up, being so badly wounded, but that it had never been removed from the files, so technically I've actually been an officer all this time – in a manner of speaking, and so eligible to have my promotion bought, and an arrangement made that I am on secondment to Bow Street until I sell it on."

"Well, it is good to know that you were appreciated by your Colonel of the time at least," said Jane. "I hope you will enjoy your supper party; I am sure you will be able to entertain these military men with some of the excellent tales you have of the villains you have apprehended – and that you will not exaggerate them too much!"

Caleb laughed.

"I thought to entertain and enlighten them with tales of the villains my excellent wife has helped me to apprehend," he said, kissing her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Araminta's unalloyed joy at the idea of being able to dance without any looking askance at her feet for anything but her still slightly halting steps was to be tempered by both national and personal tragedy for the family.

Miss Bates had written to Jane not long after Major Coate's visit to say that Mrs Bates had a persistent cough; and Jane had left her household under the management of the redoubtable Ella, aided by Miss Adcock, to go to her grandmother's side. The old woman was still much interested in all that went on in the world, and exclaimed in distress when the newspaper arrived on the sixth of November with black borders, and the news that Princess Charlotte had been delivered of a stillborn son the previous evening, and had rapidly followed him to the grave in the small hours of the morning.

"Oh dear, it is too bad!" declared Araminta, who had leave to spend the evenings and nights with Jane in the Bates house, "I have managed to persuade Mrs Goddard that I might be in half-mourning for my parents, and now we shall be plunged into mourning again!"

Fortunately Mrs Bates did not hear this outburst through her deafness as she was busy, between coughs, animadverting against cruel fate that robbed the country of two heirs to the throne in one fell swoop.

"Araminta!" said Jane, "that is most ungenerous to poor Princess Charlotte!"

"Indeed, my dear, it lacks a degree of delicacy that you are not _normally_ wanting," agreed Miss Bates.

Araminta flushed.

"I am sorry," she said, "I know it is selfish, but I was looking forward to this Christmas house party, with my new boots, and having the opportunity to dance, and if the country is in mourning, will not dancing be forbidden?"

"I doubt it," said Jane, dryly. "After all, the business of matchmaking has to go on, and as for much of the _ton_ this is a matter of economics as much as the frivolous enjoyment of gaiety, there will be little to suggest mourning save that the white muslins that are usually _de rigeur_ will instead be black. And white stockings unexceptionable in any case," she added.

Araminta brightened.

"Oh good!" she said. "I am not unsympathetic about poor Princess Charlotte – and it is a dreadful shock! – but it did seem rather too bad."

"Thus the young," murmured Jane. She was, herself, quite shaken by the news; for Princess Charlotte may have been poorly through her pregnancy, but she was a strong young woman. There had been rumours of controversy regarding her medical treatment through the pregnancy, and perhaps that had contributed to the loss of both the young prince and his mother. Or perhaps it had not. The news that Princess Charlotte was in labour had broken on the third of the month, however, and Jane shuddered at the thought of so protracted a labour, and wondered that forceps had not been used. They had been in use by more forward thinking doctors for more than half a century, after all, though some traditionalists still held that childbirth should be natural. Jane felt that the brains given mankind by the Good Lord were placed there in order to make improvements on nature, or else that was a mockery of free will; but she recognised that such a view might be considered unorthodox by some.

Jane gave thanks that she had survived both her pregnancies to date, and mentally thanked Caleb for his insistence that she should recoup her strength before considering another pregnancy, so long as nature did not overcome the applications of vinegar, and the herbal remedies she took to prevent the same. Weakness through too much birthing was what generally killed those women who survived their first pregnancy. Jane was personally of the opinion that frequent pregnancy also caused subsequent children to be more sickly as well, and led to the fact that only one child in three might generally be expected to survive to fourteen and thus essentially to adulthood.

The wave of mourning that swept the country was quite genuine, however, and not merely a matter of following a custom to mourn a member of the royal family; for the princess was popular in a way that her father no longer was, and her unfortunate grandfather had never been. Princess Charlotte was a fairy tale princess, whose beauty, wit and charm seemed to emphasise the best of what had once been part of the charm of 'Prinny' before his expenditure and corpulent figure had given much of the public a disgust for him.

"Well, at least we have mourning to wear, that may be furbished up according to the dictates of fashion," said Jane, practically, "for there is nothing so uncomfortable as being forced to hurry into mourning by the rapid dyeing of such gowns as one might when a death is unexpected. You need not fear to be unstylish for the house party, my dear."

She did not say so to Araminta, but she expected to be bereaved herself before long. Mrs Bates had become very frail over the last month, quite shockingly so.

Miss Bates also wore the look of someone who knew that the inevitable was imminent. She drew Jane aside.

"My _dear_ Jane, mother has told me she does not expect to see Christmas, and she has asked me expressly to make sure that her passing does not mar your first Christmas with Caleb, and for the children. She is so fond of them, especially young Simon, who has worked so hard to overcome his disabilities, and who is such a good boy!"

"Oh Aunt Hetty, how _kind _grandmother is, and to dear Simmy, who has become our son indeed!" said Jane.

"Indeed, and it will be very strange to be alone with just Patty in the house when she is gone," said Miss Bates with a sudden sniff.

"Aunt Hetty, you will reside with us, of course!" said Jane. "You have trained Patty well, and I feel sure that dear Mrs Weston will take her on to train even further, or if she cannot, perhaps Emma Knightley will feel able so to do. It will be a trifle _snug_ in our little house in Islington, but we shall find room for you!"

"Oh Jane!" Miss Bates burst into tears.

Jane held her tight, and shed a few tears herself; and reflected that perhaps it were as well to get the mourning out of the way before Mrs Bates did die, when things would need to be sorted out, and there would be little time for the luxury of tears.

As it happened, Mrs Bates survived Princess Charlotte by only three days, passing away quietly in her sleep on Sunday, which was, as Jane said in the inconsequential way the grief-struck often do, appropriate for a vicar's widow.

Caleb brought the children to Highbury for the funeral, and Simmy's attempts not to cry in public, for the nearest he had ever had to a grandparent, twisted his face so much that Mrs Elton was heard to remark that the child's twisted form and physiognomy were so much worse that she did not doubt but that poor Jane would find that he would soon need to be placed in an imbecile asylum.

It was perhaps fortunate for Mrs Elton that neither Caleb nor Jane heard this spiteful aside, but it may be said that Mr George Knightley took it upon himself to suggest to Mr Elton that he should be careful about permitting his wife to spread slander, since the crimes of a wife were in law laid at the door of her husband.

Simmy had other partisan friends, and Mrs Elton spent several fruitless months employing ratcatchers to find and remove whatever vermin might have died under her floorboards, and only in the spring of the next year was she to discover in the valance of her parlour curtains the mummified corpses of the gill of shrimps that some of the village boys had purchased to this end and introduced whilst waiting for religious instruction. Their fervour for Sunday School classes had mysteriously grown in order to effect this small revenge, and waned as soon as their purpose had been completed. Of this, however, the Armitage family remained entirely in ignorance in the throes of their grief.

Caleb attended the funeral in the regimentals of a Captain – he felt he owed it to Mrs Bates to do so, in order to put Mr and Mrs Elton in their place, as inadequate replacements for the late Reverend Bates. It may be said that his tall figure in the uniform of the 1st Foot Guard, now known as the Grenadier Guards, was quite splendid, and it may have been partly for the chagrin that Mrs Elton felt over finding that_ this_ rumour was true, and that therefore so must be the others concerning Mr Armitage's royal blood, that led to her spite-filled remark about Simmy. Mrs Elton found it hard to resist a spiteful remark, however, so it might have been that she would have doomed herself to the smell of decaying shrimp no worse then the scent of her bad manners in any event. Caleb was unaware of her cogitations however, as he was equally unaware of the awed and worshipful glances from Simmy's friends, who felt they owed it even more to such a bang-up fellow as Simmy to avenge him, when his father was so magnificent.

Caleb sold out immediately after the funeral, on the return to town of the Armitage family, with a woebegone Miss Bates. Miss Bates might at times have felt the strain of caring for her aged mother, but she would miss her sorely, especially so close on the heels of her romantic disappointment over Mr Joseph Redmayne, murdered to prevent him from marrying her, and perhaps disinheriting his nephew, Richard. It had been something of a year of funerals, and so Miss Bates said.

Jane embraced her.

"_Dear_ Aunt Hetty, I fear it has been a terrible strain on you!" she said, " and though I will do what I might to make life as pleasant as possible for you, I know you must feel quite melancholy!"

"My dear Jane, you are so good to me!" cried Miss Bates, "indeed, I should do as my dear papa always urged, and count my blessings – for it has been my lot in life to find love, even if unfulfilled, which so many are not so fortunate as to do; and I have had my dear mother with me for many years, and of course, dear Jane, I am fortunate to have you, who might be a daughter to me, and dear Caleb, and the children! Why I fancy mother would _chide_ me if I did not think of all the things with which I am blessed!"

Jane, too, considered herself blessed to have such an aunt as Miss Bates; and wrote to Major Coate to ask if Miss Bates might also be included in the house party under the circumstances.

She was gratified to receive an enthusiastic agreement to this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Haversett House was a foursquare, stone building, that Jane thought was around a century old, with large sash windows, which would have been built when such things were relatively new innovations. It was a neat house with well manicured lawns and topiary of the kind that was merely geometric and did not attempt to achieve fantastic forms of animals. The building works that appeared to be going on in the village plainly showed the Major's familiarity with William Atkinson's principles, that labourers in well constructed, cleanly and convenient housing would be more industrious and healthier, for they were plainly of the practical _Cottage Orné_ style that model landlords often adopted, and visually in keeping with the vernacular buildings already in the village. Having returned from France, the major appeared to be turning his energies into fighting a battle with poverty, disease and dirt upon his own lands and for his own tenants, and Jane strongly suspected that he would not retreat until he had all insanitary housing routed and rompéd.

Doubtless some of the tenants would be unappreciative of the efforts and expenditure on their behalf, but Jane hoped that most would recognise that their landlord was doing his best for them.

Caleb divined her thoughts, and laughed.

"Aye, Jane-girl, there were some of the recruits who had to be taught the virtues of cleanliness; I was fortunate to have a mother who believed in bringing us up to be as cleanly as possible in the squalid circumstances in which we found ourselves," he said. "I wish she might have lived to see me now; she'd be so pleased I had the most wonderful woman in the world consenting to be my wife. But at least she lived long enough for me to have enough pay to set her up in a nicer little house well away from the rookeries, even if it had not the modern conveniences I have no doubt the major is installing here."

"I wish I could have known your mother, dear Caleb," said Jane, softly. "I think she must have been a remarkable woman."

"She was that," agreed Caleb, "which was why I had so high a benchmark in seeking a wife and dared to look up to you."

"And I the gainer in that," said Jane. "Simmy, I pray you, do not roll your eyes thus in disapproval of our billing and cooing."

Simmy laughed.

"I think it's one of the things boys are supposed to do," he said. "I'm right glad you and Pa have got together – for it has given me a home and a family."

"Me too, in a way," spoke up Araminta. "Do you think my Uncle George will become family too? he says he has a son and several nephews and nieces who are the children of his sisters. I will be getting to know them too."

"Araminta, if it so turns out that you wish to live with your uncle, should he be desirous of offering you a home, then we will be delighted for you and not in any wise contest your wishes. I am sure that you will still be as close to us as before, even if you decide to live with your natural kin," said Jane, answering all that was unspoken in Araminta's words.

Servants met the coaches as they drew up at the door, disgorging the extensive Armitage family, Jane, Caleb, Miss Bates, Simmy and Araminta in one, Frances, baby Joseph and their maids, Araminta's dresser, Harriet Briggs, and Miss Adcock in the other, with Fowler to attend Caleb, and Ella to attend upon the needs of Miss Bates as well as being dresser to Jane. Miss Adcock was perhaps superfluous with Briggs to see to Araminta, for neither Frances nor Simmy might be expected to be doing any lessons at a house party, but she was principally there to be a support to Araminta, for having been the nearest thing Araminta had had to a mother, since her own mother had succumbed to drink as her way of coping with her bullying husband.

Jane's sharp eyes recognised Pigeon and his simple-minded helper, Derkins, amongst the outdoor servants, Pigeon having been chief groom to Mr William Coate, and entirely uninvolved in any criminal activities. It was a measure of the Major that he took care of the dependents of his kinsman too.

Simmy missed having the tutelage of a man, in the person of Henry Redmayne, spending Christmas with his parents, and only available to teach in the long summer vacation, but Henry sent him exercises that Jane at least was capable of overseeing. If there was fishing to be had here, he would entertain himself very readily, and if there was a library, weather too inclement for fishing would find him ensconced with a book, now that he read fluently. It was beginning to snow as they alighted, so Simmy merely cast a look at the ornamental lake and sighed.

"The fish in it are probably sour anyway," said Araminta.

Simmy stared, and then laughed.

"Oh very good, Minty, to twist old Aesop!" he said, in better humour.

The baggage being carried by servants – many of whom bore the distinct look of old soldiers – they went within, to the graceful entrance hall floored with plain black and white tiles like a painting by Vermeer, and soft green painted walls, with contrasting and simple white-painted pilasters and cornices, the rather cold effect warmed by the rich colour of the oak staircase that ran up to a gallery about the entrance hall that led off to the rooms on the first floor.

The effect would have been welcoming but for the harsh words being spoken by a military gentleman with a moustache that only just came short of being a very caricature of a facial feature. It bristled with an indignation that almost gave it a life of its own. The object of the ire of the aggressive face adornment had the look of a valet, who was apologising for giving offence and was pleading for his job, almost in tears.

"No, dammit, you have failed to strop my razor properly for the last time!" declared the owner of the moustache. "You have your conge; just go!"

Sobbing, the unfortunate valet stumbled past the newcomers, almost knocking into Miss Bates as he went, and muttering an apology in passing.

The military face adornment bobbed alarmingly, and Jane realised that its owner was trying to give a deprecating smile.

"Sorry, ma'am to treat you to that, but you know how it is with some of these servants; they promise everything, and fail to deliver. Captain Vernon Coate at your service," and he bowed, and fondled his facial adornment as though it needed caresses to keep it satisfied.

"Ah, I believe you are our host's son, Captain Coate," said Caleb, easily. "Captain – retired – Armitage and family, escorting your cousin Araminta, here," he indicated Araminta.

"Ah, yes, quite so, the daughter of the black sheep of the family, wot!" said the captain. "Militia, or regular army, Armitage?"

"Grenadier Guards, wounded and invalided at Corunna, before we were, strictly speaking, Grenadiers at all," said Caleb. "What regiment are you with, Captain?"

"Ah, yes, well, I remained in the militia, you know, as m'father was off fighting, wanted to be a part of dealing with Boney, but obligations to the family line, you know!" said Captain Coate, looking acutely uncomfortable.

Caleb nodded.

"The militia did their duty and guarded the home front," he said. "A family's continued survival is important," he added pacifically.

The major bustled out of a room opening off the hall.

"My dear Armitage, Mrs Armitage, Araminta, this must be Miss Bates, Simon, Miss Adcock, Simon, my boy, I fear that you will have to put up with having but two girls of your age, my nieces, my youngest nephew is fifteen, and currently trying to be a dandy," he added with a sigh.

Simmy grinned.

"Maybe he can be distracted from it by a spot of fishing if the snow doesn't last, sir?" he suggested.

"I doubt it," said the Major, gloomily, "and besides the snow looks set in to last now; you arrived just in time, looking past you to the window is a most depressing prospect."

"Snowmen then?" suggested Simmy, optimistically. "If he's got aspirations to be a dandy we can put a cravat on a snowman in the Oriental."

The major roared with laughter.

"I should think he would be outraged – but you never know!" he said. "Well, well, I should like to see a snowman sporting an oriental neck cloth. You will have to get on the good side of my cook to beg a carrot for the nose."

"Simon is good at getting on the good side of cooks," said Caleb, "come along, cub, let us permit the major's butler to show us to our rooms, he is waiting quite patiently."

"Pray come down to the library when you have freshened yourselves," said the major, indicating a door. "It is by far and away the cosiest room in the house, by reason of having good oak panelling where there are not bookshelves against the wall, and the chimney draws better than any of the others."

Jane and Caleb murmured their thanks, and permitted themselves to be whisked away above, to a series of rooms in close proximity, in each of which a cheerful fire crackled in the grate, and a kettle sat on a hob for heating water.

"Most considerate of the major," said Jane, "How pleasant! And there is a hot brick in the bed in case any of us wish to lie down after the journey. I will ask Aunt Hetty if she wishes to take advantage of that. It has been a long journey through London and into Essex," and she tripped out to tap at Miss Bates' door.

Miss Bates was gratified.

"_Every_ convenience, how _kind_ this major is, do you know, Jane, I believe I will avail myself of the opportunity to rest; if you truly do not mind?"

"I think it would be wise to rest, Aunt Hetty," said Jane. "I will tell you all about anyone else who is here later."

With that, she left Miss Bates to take off her gown and lie herself gratefully down in the soft bed. Ella would see that a maid brought Aunt Hetty a cup of tea when she had had a chance to rest! And then, Jane might dress and go down with Araminta as a support to the girl as she met her new relations.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The library was a large and gracious room, panelled as the major had indicated, and with thick velvet curtains, drawn to exclude both draughts and the depressing prospect of wet snow, that Jane had glimpsed through the windows in the entrance hall, each side of the door. Unless the temperature dropped, Simmy might be disappointed in the project of building a snowman too, for the flakes were wet and were not laying well. It might be said, thought Jane, wryly, to have all the disadvantages of snow without the advantages.

The major and other gentlemen in the room rose, and the major came forward to effect introductions.

"This is my niece, Araminta; Mr and Mrs Armitage have stood as her guardians in the difficult times following her mother's death and, er, William's, er…" he tailed off.

"Execution," said Araminta, in a small, hard voice. "My father was executed, and there is no point in hiding from the fact. It is better to be honest about these things, and face up to them; as I'm sure a military man would agree. To pretend otherwise smacks of cowardice."

The major laid a hand on her shoulder.

"That's never a charge that could be laid at _your_ door, my dear niece! You are courageous indeed; and you are quite right, your relatives here of course know about the circumstances, I was wrong to seek to spare the feelings of one so able to face life undaunted!"

"That, sir, is thanks in no small part to Jane and Mr Armitage, who have been stalwarts of strength for me," said Araminta.

"Quite so!" said Major Coate. "Captain Armitage is an excellent man, and Mrs Armitage an exceptional woman, and may I present them, and their son Simon, who is, I believe, something of a scholar and a sportsman."

Simmy bowed as beautifully as Caleb.

"Araminta is quite a part of our family," said Jane, "but we are hopeful that now she will be able to get to know her true relations."

"Well said, ma'am," said the well set up man of middle years.

"This is Samuel Waynefleet, my brother-in-law," introduced the major, " and my sister Barbara and their offspring to whom I will come in due course; we are awaiting my other sister and her family."

Barbara gave a giggle.

"If she has any sense she will have stopped at a good inn to wait out this terrible weather rather than pushing on into this rural fastness," she said. "La, Mrs Armitage, you arrived just in time before the weather worsened! I vow winters were not so bad when I was young!"

"The _Ackerman's Repository_ has published meterological figures, which are quite revealing," said Jane, "I understand that the weather has taken a turn for the colder over the last seven or eight years; it is said by some, I have heard, to be caused by a series of volcanic eruptions blocking out the light of the sun, but at least this summer, wet as it has been, was not as cold as last year! We must hope for a return to more clement weather, and that no more volcanoes erupt!"

"The local Baptist preacher said it was a portent of the end of the world for mankind's sinfulness," said Mr Waynefleet, "and I told him that mankind was no more wicked than it has ever been, it is merely that this modern age has more newspapers than ever before to dwell with prurient interest upon the details. He was most put out," he added with relish.

Barbara giggled again.

"He is a very foolish man, even his congregation think so, my dresser is a Baptist and she has no time for him," she said.

Jane smiled dryly.

"Oh there are many men who are not equal to the calling, I fear, in any form of worship," she said, "and I fear that the Church of England suffers much from it being a respectable living for a gentleman of limited family means too," she added.

"By Jove, yes!" spoke up one of the young men, "I'm at Cambridge and one of the chaps is expecting to be a parson because he's the third son, his eldest brother to take the lands, his next to be in the army and his younger brother already a midshipman in the navy. And a less Godly fellow than Watterson you could rarely meet!"

"Mr Nicholas Waynefleet, who is a little before himself," said the major. "Allow me – Mr James Waynefleet, the oldest of your cousins, Araminta, who will inherit his father's lands; Lieutenant Thomas Waynefleet, who has chosen the army as a career despite, rather than because of being the second son; Nicholas is next and I should think that Christendom will sigh with relief that he has no ambitions in the church, then Miss Catherine Waynefleet, who comes out in the next season, and Mr Charles Waynefleet who is, I believe, Araminta, much your own age."

It was not hard to recognise the incipient dandy in Charles Waynefleet. His shirt points were high and stiff and his neckcloth was an attempt at the difficult Oriental, and he looked on Caleb's neat Mathematical with a mixture of contempt that the arrangement was not as high as it might have been, and envy that it was so neatly tied.

"Yes, cub, Mr Armitage knows how to do it, and you don't," said Nicolas, following his younger brother's gaze, "and by Jove, Mr Armitage, I wish you'd give me a tip or two on how to tie a cravat."

Caleb laughed.

"Mr Waynefleet – may I be informal and call you Nicholas?" he asked and smiled as Nicholas nodded eagerly, "I have to say that I tie it well because I am lazy. I often have to be away early in the mornings, having moved to serve my country in Bow Street after I was wounded, and I like to get it right first time. Therefore I have practised until I can tie this style, the mathematical, in a hurry, and yet with accuracy, even in the dark, and I have never been known to discard more than two neckcloths before I am satisfied. I broke it down with military precision to the various stages. I'll show you later, if you like."

"Thank you sir!" said Nicholas. "It ain't a fancy one like some, but it's most awfully neat and gentlemanly."

"Nicholas!" said his father.

"Well it is, sir!" said Nicholas, injured. "You'd have cause to call me to book if I said it weren't gentlemanly like the Belcher ties Tom wears when he ain't in uniform."

"I like my comfort," said Thomas Waynefleet, not in the least put out.

"I take no offence, Mr Waynefleet," said Caleb, "indeed, I take it as a compliment, as it was meant."

Their sister giggled and asked Araminta,

"All the fuss these boys and men make about their neckcloths, can anyone actually tell the difference between them?"

"Well, I can tell the difference between one tied well, and one that looks as though jays have been nesting in it," she said. "I expect men have difficulty telling a vandyked flounce from one decorated with Spanish puffs, and only care that a gown adds to the beauty of the wearer, and doesn't detract from it by being dowdy, or the wrong colour, or over decorated or too plain. I think it's important that men should do their best with their appearance, but I think that overdoing it makes them look a bit like those women who we are not really supposed to know about."

Catherine Waynefleet giggled nervously.

"Oh Cousin Araminta!" she cried. "_How _ you can say such things!"

"Do you disagree, then?" said Araminta. "I have spoken of this with my best friends at school, the Redmayne sisters, and they were generally in agreement, but then they had suffered from a cousin who thought he was a Corinthian which is quite as bad in its way as any other kind of dandy."

"It's a trifle outspoken to say so, though," Jane put in, quietly. "Men cannot reply to an insult from a lady as they might to a gentleman. I think you might consider an apology if the comment were aimed at anyone here."

"Oh, but it wasn't, Jane!" said Araminta, flushing at being reproved by her beloved Jane, "For I meant those men who take things to extremes, and nobody here does this, for one cannot count the untidy efforts of a schoolboy's neckcloth as being in any wise an attempt at some extreme of fashion."

Jane had to bite the inside of her mouth to prevent herself from laughing at what was, all unconsciously, a far more damning comment than disapproval of the look that young Charles was attempting to achieve.

Charles Waynefleet was looking daggers at Araminta, and had she been a boy, doubtless they would have managed to have a quiet mill later to clear the air. It did not help that the boy's brothers all laughed heartily.

"I am happy to talk through the intricacies of the Mathematical with anyone," said Caleb, diplomatically, "It's easier, I believe, to achieve the Oriental once the Mathematical has been mastered."

"I take it kindly of you, Mr Armitage," said Mr Waynefleet, "since for my own part, I am happy to achieve a neat enough look, and no man can do better than look neat and smart, regardless of any style he tends to favour. Charles likes to experiment, and why should he not, to my mind; it is not a look I particularly admire that he aspires to, but there enough who do so that I would be quite out of line to reprove a young man on the verge of manhood for making sartorial choices that are not my own taste. I did not think much of my own father's style when I was Charles' age either, as I recall."

Caleb nodded.

"May I say, sir, you are an example to any father," he said. "How fortunate your sons are!"

"We are, Mr Armitage, and some of us are old enough to recognise it," said James, the oldest. "I see that Araminta is as outspoken as any of my younger siblings, so we shall doubtless squabble like siblings, and no offence taken."

Araminta beamed at him.

"Thank you, Cousin James," she said, "I would like to have a lot of siblings, it has always sounded like such fun when I have heard about large families from the girls I have met at school."

Catherine giggled.

"And I shall not be so outnumbered by brothers either," she said.

Jane reflected that if the girl prefixed every remark with a giggle, Araminta would find her a more trying sibling than her outspoken brother Nicholas.

"It will be so nice for Catherine to have another girl to talk to, other than that hoyden Persis!" said her mother, Barbara, giving a little titter. "My sister exerts no control over Persis at all!"

"Persis is a good fellow!" said Nicholas, "She's a bruising rider!"

Barbara shuddered.

"She runs quite wild, and Helene and Daphne look like being no better!" she said, fretfully. Simmy brightened; presumably these were the two girls the major had mentioned as being close to his age.

The door opened and Captain Vernon Coate came in.

"Ah, splendid, met everyone I see," he said, rubbing his hands together, "father, I need to run into town, I am going to ask an agent to find me a new valet."

The major sighed.

"Really, Vernon, I cannot see what was wrong with poor Higgins, but it's your business. Very well, if you must go out, I suppose you will; offering you the services of Davenport will not dissuade you from going out in this weather, I suppose?"

"No father; I won't put poor old Davenport to any extra trouble," said the captain, fondling his moustache. "Well, I shall be off. I hope they'll find me one by tomorrow."

"Optimist," said James Waynefleet. Vernon Coate turned curtly on his heel without dignifying that with an answer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Vernon Coate had not gone long when the sound of carriages was heard outside. The major strode to the window.

"Ah, excellent, this is Phoebe and her family," he said. "Excuse me, I'll just greet them, they will not take long to settle in, Phoebe is very brisk."

Charles turned to Simmy as the major went out into the hall.

"Helene and Daphne must be about your age, young Simon," he said in a tone that was plainly meant to be languid. "As they are quite as keen on being bruising riders as the exhausting Persis, as well as being encouraged to read Mary Wollstoncraft, I am sure a scholar and sportsman like you will find them convivial company, despite only being girls, assuming they do not come over too nice about your looks."

Simmy smiled brightly. He was used to adverse comments about the droop at the side of his face; few people now noticed the short leg and weak arm since he had been working on strengthening the wasted muscles.

"Oh, I fancy I have the advantage at least of looking like a gentleman," he said, "and no girl of spirit can be felt to be in any way a threat to a chap who has the manly self confidence not to feel inadequate beside them, you know."

The implications that Charles neither looked like a gentleman nor had the manly self confidence not to feel threatened by girls of spirit was made clear by the way Simmy looked Charles up and down with scorn; the boy was merely amused by Charles' sartorial excesses, with his excess of fobs and overly tight waist in addition to the high collar, but if this little fop was about to comment on Simmy's disabilities, the boy had learned enough self esteem to give as good as he got.

"Really, Charles, you deserved that, making real personal remarks like that," said Nicholas. "Simon, is it rude to ask you if you have suffered an accident?"

"No, I don't mind people asking," said Simmy, "in the spirit of wanting to know. I was born with my face drooping and my arm and leg withered; it's why I've been working on being something of a sportsman, to strengthen myself as much as possible. I need help cleaning and loading a gun, still, but as I move towards man's estate my strength improves. My parents encourage me to push myself. I will never be a Corinthian, nor is it likely that I will ever box, but there is no reason that I should not be as fit as I might be, even though my ambitions in life are in law."

"I must say, I'm impressed," said Nicholas.

"Rather!" agreed Thomas, and James nodded.

Charles scowled. He had come out of the encounter the worse, and it needled him to be bested by a schoolboy some years his junior. Simmy, of course, was quite used to conversing with his elders, which also gave him an aplomb not to be found in a boy more used to schoolfellows, and trying to compete – less than successfully – with older brothers.

The door opened at that moment and the major's other sister ushered her brood in.

Jane had a mental vision of someone named Phoebe being ethereal and graceful, and it was therefore almost a shock that Phoebe was a slightly dumpy woman whose movements were brisk and decisive, and who shepherded her family in with more firmness of a governess than any suggestion of being a mother hen. Her stylish gown precluded anyone mistaking her for a governess, however, the dull but rich silk of her mourning gown swirling richly. Her husband was a slight man who followed obediently, and looked as though he were probably henpecked. As the look he gave his wife was quite adoring, doubtless Roger de Saumerez, as the major introduced him, was quite happy with the situation.

The oldest of the three girls, Persis, looked as though she was going to take after her mother, being short, and already inclining towards a bosom that needed careful confining in the high waisted gown. She looked merry and greeted Nicholas cheerfully.

"Hello, Faceache!" she said.

"Same to you, Freckles!" said Nicholas. This appeared to be a long standing exchange of insults that meant nothing. Persis was by no means as pretty as her cousin Catherine, who had a vapid pale prettiness, but her liveliness of expression meant that when she entered the room, Catherine, made paler by the black that was _de rigeur_, became quite insignificant beside a personality that meant the black clothing was largely irrelevant.

As Araminta's loveliness had already eclipsed Catherine, who had been trying to use her superior age to retain some supremacy, this seemed most unfair, and Jane cynically reflected that if any of Araminta's relations offered her a home, it was unlikely to be Barbara, whatever her husband thought. There were more ways of controlling a husband than by outright taking charge as Phoebe appeared to have done; and Barbara's way was probably by crying.

Of the younger two, Helene had her father's slight figure, and Daphne had the height from her uncle's heritance, and though two years younger than Helene was slightly the taller. They both eyed Simmy thoughtfully and speculatively.

"We are eleven and nine years old," said Helene, "can it be that you are about the same, Master Armitage?"

"Simon seems friendlier," said Simmy. "I'm almost eleven, do you like fishing?"

"So long as we get to do some fishing and aren't just used to dig for worms," said Daphne.

"Oh, digging for worms is a communal chore," said Simmy. "Though I fancy we won't get much fishing in this weather, and Araminta has comforted me by saying that the fish are probably sour anyway."

The sisters exchanged looks.

"Aesop!" said Helene, giving Araminta a more interested look. "I say, I am sorry, Cousin Araminta, when I saw how stylish and pretty you are, I though you might not have any brains."

"I am at least well read, and I am held to be quick at learning in school," said Araminta. "I like to ride, too, now I have been permitted to learn. You know that I have a club foot?"

"Oh yes! Mama told us," interposed Persis, "and that you have as much bottom as anyone might, and I have been looking forward to meeting you!"

"Persis!" cried Catherine, "_Where _did you pick up a vulgarity like that?"

"Mother, more than likely," said Persis, indifferently. "Don't worry, coz, I know better than to scare people who aren't related to me, or who might as well be by being adopted by our new cousin by using inappropriate language."

Araminta smiled brightly.

"You mean you know when to be a dimber swell mort," she said.

Caleb groaned.

"See here, Minty, you did too good a job of learning cant!" he said. "It means 'a pretty, upper class lady', Miss de Saumerez, and when Araminta was helping us catch some nasty rogues, it amused her to find out what the words meant."

"Oh how splendid!" said Persis. "Men always seem to get the opportunity to learn cant, but neither mama nor papa know any!"

"Well, I can see you two girls are going to get on famously," said Phoebe de Saumerez, "_Do_ be careful what you say, and to whom and when; your aunt Barbara is about to have a fit of the vapours. Pull yourself together, Babs; William was an unsatisfactory sort of brother, and you should be glad he didn't do worse to his daughter than let her be in a position to meet criminals and learn cant. _I_ heard he'd actually tried to kill her once, as well as doubtless being quite as nasty as he ever was to us, so she's had a lot to put up with."

"Really, Phoebe, you are impossible!" said Barbara Waynefleet, "And too impossibly hearty too! I made sure you would never drag your daughters through this snow!"

Phoebe looked surprised.

"It's only a bit of weather," she said, "of course, I consulted Roger about whether it would harm the nags, as are the ones doing the work of travelling, but we agreed that if we tooled along fast enough the would keep warm, and the grooms more than equal to cooling them properly when we arrived."

Barbara tittered angrily.

"Why, Phoebe, anyone would think you put the health of your horses about that of your children!" she said.

"Of course I do," said Phoebe. "The girls can fettle for themselves; the prads are dependent on their owners, talk sense do. _How_ did I manage to be cursed with such a foolish sister!"

"There, now, my flower, do not agitate yourself," said Roger de Saumerez. "We are arrived safely and the horses put up by trusted grooms, you need not fret."

Jane thought that the word 'fret' was singularly inappropriate for the rather ebullient Phoebe, but the look of affection and the loving smile the youngest of the major's sisters turned on her spouse was a revelation. Phoebe would accept being spoken to as though she were a fragile and delicate creature by her uxorious mate where doubtless she would scoff at another. Perhaps indeed his insistence on valuing her as precious was one of the things she loved about him, even; that he valued and cherished her despite her capable and forceful mien.

This, Jane thought, was a match of true love, and no wonder the girls were so full of self-confidence if they were the products of such!

It was a contrast to the tolerant affection that she saw displayed by Samuel Waynefleet towards Barbara, to whom he appeared unfailingly courteous and kind, but in a manner that suggested that it was his nature to be unfailingly courteous to any woman. The Waynefleet boys took their tone, largely speaking, from their father; and Catherine was missish and like to be as inconsequential as her mother appeared.

Of course it was early to judge, but Jane felt herself drawn far more to Phoebe than to Barbara.

Fortunately the family might have its differences, but did not appear so much at daggers drawn as were some of the families Jane and Caleb had been unfortunate enough to encounter recently in their investigations, and having once attempted to score points on each other, even Phoebe and Catherine settled down to discuss how the mourning of Princess Charlotte was impacting upon the manufacturers of fancy goods that were frowned upon as decorations on mourning gowns, and how fashion would adapt to this. The latest _Ackermann's Repository_ showed an evening gown trimmed at the bottom with deep _chevaux de frise _ trim, and a walking dress trimmed in what was described as a very novel fashion, utilising piped fabric and fabric rosettes as a trim, and both fashion plates suggested that fashion would decree a low shoulder line, the slope of the shoulder emphasised with puffed sleeves or capped sleeves, and Barbara managed to score a barbed point with regards to her niece, Persis, as well as her sister, Phoebe, by mentioning how little this would flatter any girl or woman with a short neck. Obtaining such a barb put her in quite good humour despite Phoebe laughing and saying that drooping shoulders might be the rage, but that any good man sought personality more than any other look. This being the limit of the disparaging comments to be found, beyond some childish but amicable insults between Nicholas and Persis, Jane heaved a sigh of relief that this house party looked to be more comfortable than some she had of late attended.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Jane was an early riser, and took herself downstairs on the morrow to see if she might procure a cup of tea or chocolate for herself and Miss Bates, as Simmy had reported that Helene and Daphne had made sure to introduce him to the cook and that he had established good relations in the kitchen, which meant that Jane had every likelihood of being treated well, since Simmy had a positive genius for bringing out the motherly instincts of housekeepers and female cooks. Jane was a little startled to come face to face with a soberly dressed but liveried man with a bag wig and a faintly familiar look.

He had an almost guilty look and Jane shot him a sharp, appraising glance, wondering whether the man was either engaging on some illicit _affaire_ or whether he had been what Caleb would call 'slumming the ken' or looking around to see what he might steal. The liveried man bowed, hastily.

"Good morning, madam," he said. "I have just this moment arrived in this house, Captain Vernon Coate's agent sent me. I am his new valet. He does not appear to have arisen yet," he added in a strangely forced sounding voice. His hand went to his upper lip and Jane frowned. If the man's nose was dripping he should use a kerchief.

"Then if you wish to keep your situation with a demanding master, I suggest that you find out from the butler what his rising habits are, so that you may be beforehand with hot water to shave him, and lay out his cravats, and find out whether he likes to be awoken or merely to have you ready for him in his dressing room when he awakens of his own accord," said Jane coolly, "and I suggest you blow your nose properly, my man, rather than surreptitiously poking at a running nose," she added tartly as the man's hand rose again.

"Eh? Oh, er, yes, certainly, madam," said the valet, bowing again.

Jane moved away. She had no intention of bandying words with a valet whose very act of explaining himself made her feel that he might have something to hide; although it could be as simple as that he felt uneasy and uncomfortable in a new household. He must have been travelling very early to get here at such an hour; perhaps the poor man had come overnight on the stage. Vernon Coate had been back in time for dinner, having gone only as far as Chelmsford to arrange for a replacement valet, so if he had been engaged the previous evening, if there was a fortuitous stage passing nearby, any man eager for employment might well take the inconvenience, and yet still feel ill at ease on his arrival.

Jane soon found her way to the kitchen, and an indignant cook told her that madam had no need to await a cup of chocolate to be made, for the girl should carry up one for her and for Miss Bates, and a slice of new baked bread and butter, if madam would care to fortify herself before breakfast if those dratted children had not eaten it already.

Jane deduced from this that Simmy and the little girls were already up, and murmured that children were like a plague of locusts at times.

The Coate household was fashionable, and breakfast might be expected to be at around ten of the clock, since dinner had been at town hours; and Jane and Miss Bates were glad of a light meal to keep them going until they might legitimately break their fast properly. Caleb sighed for these fashionable hours, and as the weather had cleared, with a sparkling frost, walked briskly down to the village for a pint of ale and bread and cheese in the inn, having slept through Jane's rising for having sat up to play chess with Roger de Saumerez; and was ready for a second breakfast of toast and preserves with coffee and tea at ten, which as he murmured to Jane was a depressing sort of thing to set before a man as the first meal of the day.

"Captain Vernon Coate agrees with me," he said, "Told me his new valet has arrived and awoke him early enough to emulate me. He charmed a good game pie out of mine host as well."

"I cannot like many removes and a heavy meal in the evening and a light breakfast," said Jane.

"But then, Jane-girl, we are not idle aristocrats; we are accustomed to work quite hard," said Caleb ruefully, "even when it's brain work not physical activity."

Jane nodded to Captain Coate as he came in and sat down to breakfast.

"I saw your valet this morning, Captain," she said, "I hope he will prove satisfactory; but if I may give you a hint, he seemed somehow furtive, as though he were hiding something. It may only be nervousness in a new situation, but being married to a Bow Street Officer I have learned to be suspicious."

"Dear me!" said Vernon Coate. "I will certainly keep an eye on the fellow; my previous man may have been slapdash, but he was honest enough. No, no, I am sure you are mistaken, it must just have been the poor fellow's nerves," he smiled firmly and his moustache bobbed. He seemed to have it more tightly controlled than on the day before, thought Jane; maybe the new valet knew some preparation that kept it in better order.

"Well, you know my views on the matter of turning a man off for a minor fault," barked Major Coate, who had followed his son in, "if this new man is light fingered you'll regret turning off Higgins, but it's none of my business."

"No, father, it's my mistake to make, and my choice, like choosing the militia over a regular regiment," said the captain.

"I've told you, I have never felt in any way unhappy about your choice of the militia; a man should know what he wants to do with his life," said the major. "I was thinking about an informal ball to keep us all warm, either tonight or tomorrow, how would that suit you, Araminta?" he turned to his niece.

"I would enjoy that, Uncle George!" said Araminta, her eyes sparkling. "Will you chalk the floor? For I have had the opportunity to design a chalk design already, and I find it a pleasant avocation."

Major Coate looked taken aback.

"Why – I had not considered having a chalked floor," he said, "And to be honest with you, I don't think any floor chalkers would come readily out into the country this far. I hate to disappoint you, Araminta, my dear, but I fear that for this ball we shall have to rely on the country habit of each lady chalking her own slippers. However, if you are a skilled chalk designer, perhaps I might ask you to design for the floor for a more formal occasion in more clement weather," and he caught Jane's eye, with a query in his face.

"Araminta produced a design that was much admired," said Jane, "and the chalkers interpreted it very well. She matched the Wedgewood jasperware plaques very stylishly."

Major Coate nodded, pleased; it would be embarrassing for Araminta if she had conceived an idea that designing chalked floors would be pleasant, and had no talent for it.

Barbara Waynefleet was the only member of the family who did not come down to breakfast, preferring chocolate and fingers of bread and butter in her room; even the would-be effete Charles was still enough of a young boy to want to eat as heartily as possible. Phoebe ate heartily, having gone to the kitchen to demand buttered eggs in addition to the normal fare, and ordering enough to feed the children too. This was well enough appreciated that even Charles was civil to the point of being almost forthcoming.

The plan for the day was to play a series of parlour games like charades, from which Vernon Coate excused himself, on grounds that he had things to do in town while his new valet became acquainted with the house and with his clothes. Major Coate nodded curtly, but his mouth tightened slightly.

"Well, it is largely for the entertainment of the children," he said.

"I like charades," said Araminta, "There is that in the wordplay akin to a rebus, which can be highly entertaining."

"Good grief, Cousin Araminta, where did you come upon the use of a rebus?" demanded Nicholas.

"Oh, dear Jane and Mr Armitage explained it," said Araminta, "They made a rebus of my name, as 'spearmint' with the London pronunciation of arrow, 'arra' you know, being akin to a spear, and mint, of course the second part; is it not pleasing?"

"My goodness, indeed it is!" said Nicholas. "I fear the only rebus I can think of for myself is not suitable for mixed company!"

"Nor's the other one," said Caleb. "I was entertaining Minty by telling her that so far from being the province of the literati, the rebus is also much used by the underworld to hide identities – though I doubt many of them would be aware of the proper name for it, nor have any idea of its derivation."

"What _is_ a rebus?" demanded Catherine.

"Oh Catherine! How can you not know that?" demanded Persis.

"It is strictly speaking a pictorial representation of a name or word, from the Latin _non verbis sed rebus_, that is, not by words but by things," said Caleb, "and was used often in heraldry to denote a family name. Not so far from you is one of the seats of the Duke of Oxford, the de Vere family, whose rebus was a boar, from _verres_, the wild boar, in Latin. And if you are wondering how I know that, it's because of the cornet in one of the cavalry regiments I once had the pleasure to throw in the horse trough, who was inclined to go on about his family associations and descent. The canting crew, or criminal classes, take it a stage further to return a rebus to slightly different words, as with Araminta to Spearmint. I fancy, however, that Major Coate has a game of charades mapped out?"

The major laughed.

"Oh, if any are entertained by drawing a rebus of their names, I will not interrupt it," he said, "A sprig of spearmint is indeed more sophisticated, though, than an arrow and some common mint, so I fancy your skills, and those of Mrs Armitage will have the rest of us beat! For the best I could do for myself is a man killing a dragon, and a - well, a coat!"

"It sounds a silly game," said Catherine, who was looking most disgruntled.

"Only because you aren't clever enough for it," murmured Persis to herself. Jane heard the murmur though Catherine did not, and was thankful that Persis had not spoken out loudly.

"Let us begin the charades, then, Major Coate," said Jane, gaily, "have you a selection for us to guess or are you expecting us to make up new ones?"

"Why, Mrs Armitage, I hoped that my guests would work in pairs to write new ones!" said the Major, "And then present them after a light luncheon to fortify the ladies, my cook is preparing a nice warming consommé."

"It sounds an excellent idea," said Jane, "will you pair off your guests at random for the drawing of lots, or are you prepared to wait while they squabble and choose?"

The major looked disconcerted.

"I had thought they might be old enough to choose without squabbling," he said, "but perhaps you are correct… I thought to give Helen, Daphne and Simon the advantage of working as a three, as they are much younger than the rest though."

"Thank you, sir," said Simmy. "I take it we may not write charades in Latin?"

"No, young shaver, you may not!" declared the major, "and whatever progressive views m'sister Phoebe has, I doubt the girls would be up to it anyhow!"

Simmy grinned unrepentantly, and Jane, who had been wondering what he was about, since his Latin was not that far advanced, heard him explaining that fact _sotto voce_ to Helene and Daphne and that it had been by way of irritating Charles and Catherine, whom Simmy had taken in aversion.

The little girls seemed to consider this a perfectly reasonable explanation, and Jane sighed. Boys would be boys!

"I must discount myself, Major Coate, for such clever word games are _quite_ beyond me!" interposed Miss Bates. "I will sit and sew and enjoy the _cleverness_ of others!"

Jane was wondering whether she should partner Catherine so the poor girl had someone with an ounce or two of brains to help her, when she was firmly claimed by Araminta. Catherine clung to her mother, and if the Major had hoped the cousins would mix sexes, he was satisfied only by Persis and Nicholas who were likely to spend more time squabbling over what word to choose than writing any clever charade about it. Thomas and James elected to work together and Phoebe declared such frivolity outside of her own ability and invited Caleb and Samuel Waynefleet to join her and her husband in a game of whist instead, for penny points. .

An interrogative eyebrow raised at the major by Caleb was confirmed by a nod; George Coate knew better than to try to coerce his sister or his brothers in law! That left Charles by default with the major, who seemed to view his excesses with sufficient tolerant amusement not to make the pairing friction filled


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The charades proceeded with the usual varied assortment of offerings, where it was generally held that James and Thomas scraped the bottom of the barrel with their offering, which did not even rhyme.

"_My first is a snake, my second, a rag, my third, you and me, and whole is a vegetable_" said James.

"Goodness!" said Helene, scornfully, "if it weren't so plainly asparagus, I'd say it was an old chestnut!"

"Well you do better, then, brat," said Thomas, his easy-going voice robbing the epithet of any sting.

"We planned to," said Daphne. "Here, Simon, you read it!"

Simmy grinned.

"_My first is an hundred, as written in Rome,_

_My second holds a hand by its bone,_

_My third is a weight but without gravity, _

_And my whole celebrated in winter, you see,"_ he recited with aplomb.

"That doesn't make sense," said Catherine, "You stupid children, each part has to be a single syllable or a single letter, an hundred isn't at all. You shouldn't be allowed to play if you can't do it properly."

"You're an ass, Catherine," said Persis. "They mean the letter 'C' which denotes an hundred in Roman numerals. Actually I have it all."

"So do I," said Nicholas, "and so do Mr and Mrs Armitage for they are laughing at how simple it is!"

"I wasn't expecting anyone to throw in higher mathematics and Newtonian theory though," said Caleb. "Simmy, had you got so far with Henry?"

"No, sir: it was Helene knew that," said Simmy.

"I don't understand at all," said Catherine.

Her mother giggled.

"Oh, what do you expect from girls permitted to be bluestockings; they will make the men feel inadequate and will make themselves unmarriageable."

"I'd marry both of them like a shot," said Simmy, firmly.

"Not both at once, lad; even for a lawyer, that's going a bit too far," said Caleb. Simmy laughed.

"You'd better explain it, Pa," he said.

"C; wrist: mass: Christmas," said Caleb. "Newton's theory of gravitational force tells us that a mass only becomes a _weight_ when the force of gravity pulls it down towards the earth. Or any other heavenly body. Mr Henry Cavendish worked out that a mass weighing a pound on earth would weigh about two and two thirds ounces."

"But that's ridiculous!" said Catherine. "A pound weighs a pound!"

"Not if …. never mind," said Persis, "Don't worry, Catherine, I doubt anyone on the ballroom floor at your come-out will even be conversant with Newton and Cavendish, let alone want to talk about them."

"I say, Persis, I wish I'd known you were knowledgeable about mathematics, we could have really foxed everyone, instead of being so pedestrian," said Nicholas.

Persis laughed.

"Well the honours go to the children, I should think," she said. "It's not entirely a suitable venue to show off the excellence of one's tutor however, so let us temper the encomium with mild disapprobation too."

"What is your pedestrian one, then?" asked Thomas. Nicholas recited,

"_I could not set this on the page without my first, you see; _

_My second may be found in France, where you might find she,_

_My third may mean to open, but framed in poesy, _

_Which leaves a fourth to make the whole, who waits in Odyssey_."

"That is moderately straightforward," said Thomas, "even I can guess Penelope from that."

"Why?" demanded Catherine. "Odyssey, isn't that something by Shakespeare? Is this Penelope in Shakespeare?"

Her brothers all gave her pitying looks.

"Oh really, Catherine!" cried Charles, "you can't be such a widgeon as to think that Homer's Illiad and Odyssey are by Shakespeare! They are the most famous classics of all! and Penelope was Odysseus' wife and waited patiently for him to return.. It's not bad, Nick, Pen, elle, ope and a final e for the pronunciation, I like it!"

Jane could see that Nicholas almost made an ironic comment, and changed his mind.

"Thanks, Charles," he said.

Charles and the major had also eschewed rhymes for their effort, but it was at least a little more original than Thomas and James had managed.

"My first is eaten at Christmas, and my second might be found on the plants we use to decorate at Christmas, and my whole might be served pickled with my first," declared the major when it appeared that Charles had suddenly turned too bashful to read it out.

"Haha, trust Charles to think of his digestion," said Persis.

"Gooseberry," said Araminta.

"Which is what a bluestocking is likely to be," said Charles, stung by how quickly Araminta had guessed.

Araminta laughed.

"Charles, thanks to Jane, and no thanks to my father, I have the opportunity to meet people and be a gooseberry, and I have the option to dance if I am asked because of the aid I have received, instead of hobbling on a stick. I find the chance to choose to put off those men who are threatened by my enforced inactivity making me well-read a marvellous thing, rather than putting them off merely by being halt."

Charles blushed scarlet.

"I beg your pardon, Cousin Araminta, I had forgotten that you were c-crippled," he said, "I did not mean to draw attention to it."

"Cousin Charles, that was handsomely said," said Araminta, holding out her hand. "I thank you for the compliment that you had forgotten!"

Charles shyly shook hands with her. Why, thought Jane, looking at the young people, he is taking on this business of being a dandy because he is unsure of himself and wants something of his own that is not in competition with older brothers!

"Some of us haven't given our charades yet," said Catherine, with a giggle.

"Well, pray, lay your words of wit upon our eager ears, dear coz," said Persis. Catherine gave her an uncertain look, sure that there was some barb therein, but unable to see where it might be.

"Well, I shall," she said.

"_My first is everyone who wants to be_

_At my whole as often can be,_

_My second a Scotsman, the whole can then send_

_Anyone listening to wish to attend."_

"Almack's, slightly strained on the all, though," said Persis, quickly. Catherine glared at her. Persis added, "what about Mrs Armitage and Araminta?"

"Jane wouldn't let me have too many flights of fancy," laughed Araminta, "so I've come up with one that is for Miss Bates, as a tribute to Mr Redmayne, which gives nothing away."

"Oh my _dear_ Araminta!" cried Miss Bates, quite overcome.

Araminta smiled at her.

"_My first might be, and it might be another, _

_Either will do for the part's either's brother,_

_My second a young goat, that grazes on meads_

_Where my whole shyly hides amidst grasses or reeds_."

"Very clever, Minty," said Caleb, clapping, and as Miss Bates looked puzzled he bent down to whisper in her ear.

"_Oh!_" cried Miss Bates, "how _very _clever, _dear_ Minty!"

"But you must not tell unless nobody can guess, Aunt Hetty," said Caleb.

"Indeed, not! Oh how charming to think of that, I pray you, Araminta, will you set it out in your pretty hand so that I might keep it?"

"I will do better than that, dear Miss Bates, I will illustrate it for you," said Araminta.

"I believe," said Roger de Saumerez, "that the answer is 'orchid'. You know – knew, I believe I should say – Mr Redmayne, Araminta? I have corresponded with him."

Araminta flushed.

"Yes indeed; he was abrasive, but a kindly old man to those he held dear," she said. "And I am glad that Mr Featherstone and Euphelia are going to continue his work with orchids."

Mr de Saumerez brightened and turned to his wife.

"They are? Then, my dear, if you do not object too much, I might take myself to Yorkshire in the spring to speak with Mr Featherstone, whom I know slightly through my correspondence with Mr Redmayne."

"Don't forget to pack extra underlinen and wear two of everything, it's cold in Yorkshire," adjured Phoebe.

"Yes, my flower," said de Saumerez, meekly. This was almost too much for Simmy, who had to have a diplomatic fit of coughing.

"How came you to know Mr Redmayne, my dear?" asked the Major, of Araminta.

"Oh, it was when I was staying with Jane in her uncle's house, we met the Misses Redmayne and were invited to a house party," said Araminta, "it was very upsetting when he… died," she remembered in time that though the case had been written up by Caleb for Bow Street's records, the murder of the old man had been kept quiet since his murderer had died while resisting arrest.

The voice of Captain Coate came from the doorway.

"Joseph Redmayne? I heard from one of the officers who was stationed up in York that he was murdered – some prowler, I suppose. Sordid business," he added. "How came he into the conversation, father?"

"Orchids," Jane answered for the major, "and yes, it was a sordid business, and I pray you will not remind Araminta by speaking of it. I hope you have concluded your business satisfactorily?" she added.

"Eh? Oh, yes, indeed!" he twitched at his moustache which was looking rather limp, presumably it suffered from the damp air.

"To be candid," said Araminta, "had I not liked Mr Redmayne, it would have been quite interesting and enjoyable watching the investigation into his death in progress, and the methods of Bow Street, but I would add my voice to Jane's to request that I not be asked details."

"Bow Street, eh? Dear me! Quite so, quite so, you won't want to dwell on such horrors, of course!" said the captain, patting Araminta on the head. "Is it almost dinner time? Dear me, I must go and dress and see if my man has got my evening clothes laid out properly."

Evidently he had forgotten – or had never taken it in – that Caleb was with Bow Street, thought Jane, amused. Probably the fact of Caleb being in the regular army, and a regiment that had won prestige at that, had been uppermost in the mind of a mere Militiaman.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The Major gazed in some disapproval on his son when the party went in to dinner.

"Vernon, my lad, I know it's your business, but I don't think much of that man of yours; your coat hasn't been properly brushed and it looks almost as though you shrugged it on by yourself. I hope you didn't engage him just because he came recommended as able to put a good shine on boots – if he can, as I've yet to see."

Captain Vernon Coate flushed.

"I might have been hasty, father," he said. "I will give him a fair chance though, he had to find his way about the house and so on."

"Well, if you give him too long a chance you may find that Higgins has walked into other employment and you won't have the opportunity to beg his pardon and ask him to resume his duties with you," barked the Major. Vernon Coate went a dull red.

"I cannot see why I should beg the pardon of a servant, sir," he said, "he should have given more satisfactory service, and take it as a warning to do better, _if_ indeed Braintree proves unsatisfactory and I take Higgins back."

"I would have thought that a gentleman would admit to a fault, and that it is to a servant only demonstrates the gentility of his spirit," said the major curtly.

"But then, I am not at fault," said Vernon Coate, sharply, "I might have been too beguiled by the glowing recommendation with which Braintree was provided, but that does not make it a fault to have dismissed Higgins! He made a pig's ear of stropping my razor!" his face suffused with blood. Araminta gasped and sought Jane's hand with her own under the table. Jane squeezed her hand reassuringly.

The family likeness to William Coate, Araminta's father, had been suddenly more apparent.

Veron Coate laughed a harsh laugh, forcing himself back to good humour.

"Why, father, what a thing to quarrel about, a mere servant!" he said, smiling around the table.

"_I_ wasn't quarrelling, but let it go," said the major.

"Well, father, what is the order for the evening?" asked Vernon Coate.

"I thought we might amuse ourselves by acting out some scenes from Shakespeare," said the major, "If the young people feel that would be suitable entertainment?"

"Oh _yes!" _ said Catherine, "so long as we might read the parts; it is too much to expect us to learn parts in so short a time. Will we do _Midsummer Night's Dream_? That boy Simon could be Puck!"

"And I suppose you'd be Titania and have Helene and me as fairies running errands for you?" said Daphne, scornfully. "Well if you think Simon is going to sit in a cowslip and suck bees, I should think you could think again!"

"Do _WHAT_?" demanded Simmy.

"Oh my _dear_ Simmy, Daphne has incorrectly remembered the play," said Miss Bates. "For that is a misquote from _The Tempest, _ and it is Ariel who says 'Where the bee sucks, there suck I, in a cowslip's bell I lie'; there is nothing like that in _Midsummer Night's Dream._ One of the fairies speaks of bedecking cowslips with silver earrings and Puck goes to find a flower the nectar of which will make someone fall in love."

"Sounds a curst rum touch to me," said Simmy.

"I'm inclined to agree!" said Caleb. "I never knew Shakespeare went in for drugging women for seduction, sounds like a libertine, this Puck character."

"Oh _no_, dear Caleb, you quite mistake!" cried Miss Bates. "It is her husband Oberon who wishes Puck to get the flower, to make her fall briefly in love with someone unsuitable to teach her a lesson for lavishing her attention on a boy who is a changeling – for they are the king and queen of fairyland – and he is jealous, and also wishes to have the boy himself as a page."

Caleb spluttered.

"Aunt Hetty, I cannot think that such matter is suitable for young girls!" he declared. "Adultery, drugging, and the suggestion of the forbidden love, really, I have to agree with Sim – Simon's assessment! Making it happen in fairyland is obviously a way the fellow might get away with some deucedly queer notions!" he was trying to recall that Simmy was too old really for a child's name.

"It is a _pretty_ fantasy!" declared Catherine.

"It is a comedy," said Jane, pacifically, "and the situations contrived for comedic effect, and I confess that hearing that part of the play described out of context, dear Caleb, it does sound quite inapposite! However, I think it is not the sort of play that the younger children nor Nicholas nor Charles would enjoy."

"Jupiter, no!" said Nicholas, with feeling. "I'd rather do _Macbeth_ personally."

"That's a better one," agreed Simmy.

Catherine gave a little scream.

"Oh _no_! too bloodthirsty!" she declared.

"Perhaps acting scenes – and the choice of a scene – might be something we might consider over several days rather than as something to be sorted out in one evening," suggested Jane. "Choosing something to act is bound to be contentious, perhaps we ladies might choose something between us?" she looked at Barbara and Phoebe.

"I think _Midsummer Night's Dream _is pretty," said Barbara, "I could not understand the objections of Mr Armitage at all!"

Phoebe laughed.

"I could, and I had not considered it at all, but it does sound as though both Oberon and Puck are dashed loose screws for such a scheme, looked at on its own!" she said.

"Phoebe! Your expressions! _So_ unladylike!" cried Barbara.

"Our parents weren't so mealy-mouthed, it is only that we have looser stays, we seem to have tighter mouths," said Phoebe. "Shakespeare was writing in an even more robust age and some of his comedies are _not_ suitable for young ladies, at least, not if you understand them, and as my dear Roger is quite a scholar, I have come to understand them better than perhaps is comfortable. I would suggest a more modern play, or else stick to one of Shakespeare's histories, like Henry V, where Catherine might enjoy herself as Princess Katherine having an English lesson, that is only risqué if you read it that way, and the boys to do a scene with Henry and his advisors, perhaps the infamous tennis ball scene, for I think Simon would enjoy being the French Herald."

"That sounds capital!" declared Vernon Coate. "But if we are not to do that immediately, what will we do? Mrs Armitage, you have suggested deferring my father's idea, what will you suggest in its stead?"

"Why, perhaps that the young people might choose a passage to read that suits their own tastes, and read that out for the enjoyment of all," said Jane, "for as well as several volumes of Shakespeare's plays, your father's excellent library also contains other plays, and many volumes of poetry. Nobody here is confined to the works of Helen Maria Williams," she added. Araminta giggled.

"There is something I am missing, here," said the major.

"Oh Uncle George, I did tell you about the Redmayne sisters, my friends," said Araminta, "Euphelia, Cora, Zillia, Aciloe and Alzira, whose mother had only ever read the works of Mrs Williams and named her daughters for the heroines thereof."

"Dear me!" said the major. "Singularly, er, singular."

"Tactful," said Caleb. "If you've no objection to my wife's suggestion, sir, I think it would answer while the adults in the party work out suitable scenes that will not offend the youngest or the oldest too much – a piece of manoeuvring that makes me almost prefer to be back at Corunna – and those who wish might have the time to copy out their parts or learn them as they prefer, perhaps as a closing entertainment to the house party?"

"Capital," said the major. "By Jove, I had not considered the finer feelings of either the children, or of their choices upon the older ones. I am glad you and Mrs Armitage are able to pour oil on troubled waters. Let all disperse then to the library for an hour to aid digestion in quiet contemplation, and choose what they might wish to read. Nothing too long, any of you!" he added hastily.

It was perhaps perversity that made Catherine choose Titania's speech; Persis managed the longest poem chosen, with Percy Bysshe Shelley's recently published _Hymn to Intellectual Beauty_ whose title made Simmy look on her with horror, but as she read, he sat up and listened.

"You read that beautifully, Miss de Saumerez," he said, "That gave me gooseflesh, 'each from his voiceless grave', I like that, and it's what Pa and Ma do, give voices to the voiceless in their graves."

"I don't think that's quite what the poem is about," said Persis, "I think it's about finding things that are beautiful that have not been sung about or something, and finding beauty in things unconsidered by others."

"But isn't justice beautiful?" asked Simmy.

Jane was so proud of him! That was such a profound thing to say!

"I wager you have something bloodthirsty though," said Catherine.

"Well I don't say it's peaceful," said Simmy, and proceeded to give Henry V's speech before Agincourt, having managed to learn it sufficiently to only need brief glances at the book so that he might add gestures.

"Didn't you say you were for the bar, young Simon?" asked James. "I'd pay to have you put any case of mine. You have the theatricality right natural, not like my idiot sister who thinks a breathy voice means thrilling and exciting, instead of sounding as though she is in the last stages of consumption."

There was a brief interlude of heated words at this point which was stopped by Mr Waynefleet.

"ENOUGH!" he roared. "James, you are old enough to know that a gentleman _never_ tells a lady unpalatable truths; apologise to your sister!"

"Yes, sir; sorry Catherine," said James. "I'll try to remember not to liken your dramatic reading to a sheep wheezing in future; it is unkind."

Jane strongly suspected that he left unsaid the thought that it was unkind to the sheep.

"I say, it's snowing in earnest!" cried Nicholas, who had glanced idly through the curtains. The younger people ran to the window with cries of delight.

"Well, that has broken up the entertainment," said the major. "I think light refreshments and an early night, hmmm? The children will want to build a snowman, and slides and the like; and if the lake bears we might consider skating tomorrow evening as an alternative to a ball, with braziers around for light and to warm ourselves."

"Capital, father!" cried Vernon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The morning dawned with that peculiar light on the ceiling that always heralds snow; and Simmy crashed into the bedroom assigned to Jane and Caleb without ceremony.

"Ma, Pa, can I go out and play?" he demanded.

"You may go out if you wrap up warmly," said Jane, deciding not to make an issue of grammar under the excitement of snow that meant for the first time in Simmy's life pleasure not pain. She added, "don't go on the lake until it has been tested, and if you must slide, make sure you don't build slides where the servants will want to go."

"I don't suppose any of them is likely to go out, ma," said Simmy, "all the offices being within, and being good Bramah closets, and the laundry opening off the kitchen too. They won't go out nowise. And nobody has yet, for I've looked out above every door, and I want to make the first footprints!"

Caleb laughed.

"If you get wet, come straight in to Miss Adcock and change," he adjured.

"Yes Pa, I will; I know how much snow can hurt," said Simmy, seriously. The aches of his twisted little body must have been cruel in the previous cold winters, thought Jane, and had not Caleb offered him shelter before taking the decision to adopt him, the boy would have likely died long since.

Simmy went clattering downstairs, and Caleb looked at Jane.

"I can think of a good way to warm up on a cold morning, Mrs Armitage," he said.

"How fortuitous it is that we are awake early to take advantage of your excellent suggestions, Mr Armitage," replied Jane, demurely.

"Fortuitous, nothing," said Caleb, "but if Simmy must wake us early, we may as well take advantage of it."

The Armitages still managed to rise quite early, but later than they might otherwise have done. Simmy appeared to have wakened the younger de Saumerez sisters by, as he later explained, the expedient of throwing snowballs at their window, and all three children tramped in, glowing with cold, and happy, for breakfast, declaring that though they had been the first human footprints in the snow, save around the stable block where the grooms lived above the horses, there were all manner of bird and animal prints and that Helene was a show-off who knew them all.

The major did not appear for breakfast, which was apparently out of character, as both his brothers in law and his two older nephews glanced at his empty seat with a frown. His son, Vernon Coate gave a voice to this disquiet. He looked this morning as if he had dressed almost by guess.

"Where can father be? It's a morning for people to disappear, my blasted valet never came to help me dress, and now father is not here for breakfast. Where can he be?"

"Well he ain't dyspeptic from eating all those stuffed capons, because George has a digestion like a horse," said Phoebe, "though it puzzles me why that should be the turn of phrase as horses actually have quite delicate digestions. The digestion of a hog would be more apposite, hogs can and will eat anything."

"He might have gone for a walk in the snow," ventured Roger de Saumerez, "Hearty sort of fellow, George, and it stopped snowing at around midnight, for I marked it when I looked out. He's an early riser, might have gone for a tramp in the snow, sort of thing he would do."

"I think we'd have seen him, papa, or found his footsteps," said Daphne, helping herself to the buttered eggs that had arrived without the need to ask this morning.

"I wonder if we should go and see if he is all right," said Vernon Coate. "Armitage, old man, will you come with me? he is surely too young for a stroke, but…"

Caleb got up.

"I will come," he said. "It is not unknown for an apparently healthy man to be struck with a stroke or apoplectic fit when still apparently in his prime, and rising into a morning that is suddenly much colder than it has been of late might be enough to cause such. Perchance your valet came upon him, if he were taken ill on getting up and stumbled from the room, and is doing what he may, unable to make anyone else hear him to relieve him; that would explain his absence."

"Indeed it might, I had not considered that!" said the captain.

"I have to say, my valet considers Braintree a queer cove though," said Caleb, "Fowler said he seemed to have an arrogance that belied his rather meagre abilities; he had to show the fellow how to remove stains from your coat, and how to iron neckcloths properly. Fowler's of the opinion that the fellow is an ex soldier who is cutting a sham as a valet as he's about as much use, if you'll pardon his idiom, as a wax firedog."

"It would not preclude him knowing something of physicking his fellow soldiers though, if that is indeed what has happened," said Vernon Coate, "and I confess I did like his military bearing. We should ask my father's valet, of course, first," he added, "for surely he will know what time my father rose."

Caleb followed the captain to Major Coate's room, where they found old Davenport looking through his master's suits.

"Davenport! Can you tell me what time my father rose this morning?" demanded Vernon Coate. The old man raised his rheumy eyes.

"I don't rightly know, Mr Vernon; beings as how his bed don't appear to have been slept in when I came in to rouse him," he said. "I have been waiting for him to come up to change, as he always does if he falls asleep reading in the library or his study. It is not like him to take so long," he added, in a worried tone.

"Inclined to fall asleep reading? We have better go to the library then, if he has had a stroke there the sooner we get to him the better," said Caleb. "For I cannot see what business your valet might have in the library or the study, Coate, so I fancy his absence without leave has another reason and will probably turn out to have a shapely figure and a willing disposition."

"Really, Armitage!" cried Coate, sounding shocked. Caleb laughed.

"It won't be the first time a servant proves himself to be incontinent and I doubt it will be the last, if that is indeed the case," he said, moving quickly down the stairs and into the library.

A quick look around sufficed to show that the major was not therein, awake, asleep or unwell.

"His study is this way," said Vernon Coate. "Why, the door is not properly shut! That is odd, my father would surely shut it if he were within, and he always locks it when he leaves, for his safe is within."

"If it's a Bramah patent safe nobody could crack it anywise," said Caleb, "it ain't just conveniences that clever fellow Bramah makes."

"It is not, alas!" said Vernon Coate, "Though my father has spoken of getting one. He keeps the family jewellery in there as well as funds, and papers, and he was speaking of having some of the jewellery reset for Araminta," the captain pushed the door open as he spoke and gave a cry. "_Father_" he cried as he sprang forward. "He has hit his head!" Caleb was but a step behind him, and gently shifted the younger man aside.

"_MY _ province here, Coate, as an officer of Bow Street," he said. "Your father did not come by that headwound naturally by falling, and there's blood on that poker, that suggests it as a handy weapon."

"And the safe is open!" cried Coate. "Dear G-d, I see it all! Braintree but wanted to get into the house and has hit my poor father on the head when disturbed rifling the safe! We must get the constables out after him!"

"Not much point," said Caleb. "He ain't left the house."

Coate stared.

"How can you know that?" he demanded.

"The snow stopped around midnight, an hour or so after most of us turned in, for de Saumerez noticed it. And my son remarked that there were no footprints in the snow going out of the house this morning. He's either hiding somewhere in this great pile or he's dead too… _strewth_!" he exclaimed. "The major's still alive!" as a crepitant gasp issued from the inert body.

"Caleb?" Jane's voice and light step sounded at the door. "I had a feeling you might need me? ah!" she added, coming to kneel by Major Coate. Araminta was on her heels and gave a little cry.

"Oh no! must death follow me?" she gasped.

"Your uncle is not dead," said Jane, calmly, "and I pray you, dear Minty, to run for Miss Bates and Mrs de Saumerez, who are the practical people we might rely on, and apprise them of this matter, and then have Mr de Saumerez, who strikes me as much less vague than he tries to appear, send some footmen to lift the major and carry him to his room. It is a similar blow to one I have attended before, and though he may have lost all his memory when he regains consciousness, it will doubtless be only a matter of time before he regains it. Dear me, did I hear you say that we had a murderous valet lurking somewhere in the house, my dear?"

"It's either that or someone else who is murderous who has struck them both down," said Caleb. "I need Fowler; he can go through that fellow Braintree's room and find out everything about him."

"Dear me, surely that is beyond the abilities of any man?" said Vernon Coate.

"Not beyond the inestimable Fowler," said Caleb. "Give him a man's wardrobe and he can tell you every detail of his lifestyle. Well, at least if Jane has every expectation that your father will live, that is one piece of good news!"

"Yes, indeed!" said Vernon Coate. "I was certain life was quite extinct when I saw him lying there!"

"The major is a robust man, and not, I think, about to die from a head wound administered clumsily by a shorter man," said Jane, "for it lacks the force of a blow from a taller man, not that this is much help, since you, Caleb, are the only man in the house taller than him, and Pigeon must surely sleep in the stable block with the other ostlers as being the only other man of like height."

"Yes, I see the angle of the blow too, Jane-girl," said Caleb. "and if you ask me, this poker that's all smeared with blood is the wrong shape for that wound too."

"I concur," said Jane. "I was inclined to think it might be the pommel of a cavalry sabre; and there are plenty hung on the wall, though none look to have been disturbed. I can see a patina of dust from here; I presume the maids are not allowed to touch them. It could equally be the knob of a gentleman's cane," she added, "such as all gentlemen carry. It is certainly a knob-shaped wound, not a blow from a poker – which might indeed have killed the poor man. And as the fire is on the other side of the desk from the major, as is the safe, I have to think that the attack may have taken place before the safe was rifled. However, my care is for our unfortunate host; and here is dear Miss Bates, and the excellent Phoebe de Saumerez to lend me aid in the same," she added as the two ladies came in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The footmen carried their master to his bedroom, where old Davenport cried out, and wrung his hands together.

"Davenport, boil water and bring it to me, and clean rags to wash and dress your master's head wound," said Jane, crisply, "and send my maid, Ella, to me, as she is an excellent sick nurse too. Your master has lain on the cold floor all night too, so see to heating three or four hot bricks and wrapping them well, so that we might regain his body heat as soon as we are able. You may undress him when I have tended his wound."

"Yes, madam," said Davenport, automatically. Having someone to give orders was what he needed to be able to cope with this most unthinkable of matters. "Oh madam, was it a housebreaker? It has to have been someone from without, surely, not in a fight with Mr Vernon or Mr Thomas? No, it cannot be Mr Vernon, for he was looking for him not so long since."

"Has your master then quarrelled with either of those of his relatives?" asked Jane.

"Oh, the major does not quarrel, madam!" said Davenport, reproachfully, "but Mr Vernon was much put out that he planned to adopt Miss Araminta, and Mr Thomas Waynefleet was put out that my master would not put in a word for him and buy his promotion, though he is an easy going young gentleman, not like Mr Nicholas, who is more impetuous, and really the only one of that family who really quarrels with the major is Mrs Barbara, his sister, because she wanted him to fund bringing out Miss Catherine. And a woman would not be able to push a man hard enough that he fell and hurt his head so badly, for I cannot see him getting such a wound by accident, for nothing you can say will make me believe that the major would ever take a false step, or stumble, being a moderate man, and never drunk, madam!"

"What nonsense you do talk, Davenport," said Phoebe de Saumerez, "I am sure there is a simple explanation that something fell and struck my brother, for the only person likely to throw anything at him with sufficient force to hurt is me; and I have not done so, and nor would I aim seriously to hit in any case," she went on, "Now do as Mrs Armitage has bid you, Davenport and stop speaking such nonsense."

"The blow was caused from below, by someone shorter than the major, and it is thought to be from the knob of a cane," said Jane. "As I understand it, Captain Coate's valet has disappeared and he holds the hypothesis that this Braintree did the deed, whilst disturbed at theft."

"Hmmph" said Phoebe, "well at least we have a gentleman Runner here to get to the bottom of it; and may I say if he takes charge as well as you have taken charge of my brother's sickroom, Mrs Armitage, it will proceed with an efficiency I for one do not normally associate with Bow Street. But I cannot see why a valet should rifle through George's safe; it contains nothing but deeds and documents and some of the family jewellery which is too singular to readily sell. He keeps his money in a strong box under his bed," she added.

"Oh, Mrs de Saumerez, I remarked that the valet Braintree had something of a look of the family, when I saw him in profile!" said Miss Bates, "can it be that he is the _natural_ son of one of your relatives and sought for some kind of documentary proof of this, to try to get what he saw as his birthright?"

"Good G-d!" said Phoebe. "I can't say I looked that closely at the fellow, but I don't doubt but that it might appear more obvious to an outsider to the family. Not that I can see m'brother having played about, but I suppose you never know. Or even m'father, I suppose, as I recall the fellow was no older than Vernon, so it would have been when Barbara and I were in the schoolroom; I doubt we'd have known," she added frankly.

"Well, that gives a bit more reason for what seemed like an unlikely crime," said Jane, as she dressed the wound. "This blow is nasty but so long as he is watched and he is not allowed to drown on his own vomit, he should make a full recovery. Phoebe, would you help me to lay him onto his side, so it is easier to catch any vomit?"

"Certainly," said Phoebe. "You are very competent, Mrs Armitage," she added with approval. "I am glad you are here; I can physic horses well enough, but I confess that head wounds are beyond my knowledge, and when it is one's own much loved brother, it is harder to be objective. Thank you!"

"Oh indeed, Mrs de Saumerez, it is always easier to be objective about strangers than about one's own loved ones!" said Miss Bates. "Dear Jane, you must join dear Caleb, and help to catch this dreadful man, now you have dressed the wound, Ella and I are quite capable of nursing the dear major, if you will perhaps bring my your pistol, in case that horrid villain is still in the house as Caleb seemed to think."

"Aunt Hetty, you don't know how to use a pistol!" said Jane, startled.

"No, Jane dear; but he doesn't know that, does he?" said Miss Bates, practically. "Caleb says that a, er, barking iron, in the hands of a woman is fearsome, so it ought to help; and Ella has practiced firing your gun, has she not?"

"She has," said Jane, recalling Ella's habit of shutting her eyes and firing wildly. It was as well to be behind Ella when she was practising. Perhaps Aunt Hetty was right at that, any sensible man would be chary of tackling a woman with a pistol – in case it went off accidentally!.

"Well then, I will be quite able to guard the major," said Miss Bates, firmly.

Caleb gathered the household in the library after Jane had had a chance to speak to him quickly.

"I expect that there is some confusion about what has happened," he said. "And I'd like to tell you what is known so far. Major George Coate was struck with some rounded object like the pommel of a sword, the butt of a pistol or the knob of a cane, and has sustained serious injury. "

"He's not dead then? I thought he had been killed," said Nicholas.

"No, he ain't about to stick his spoon in the wall yet," said Caleb. "The safe was open. This appears to be a robbery, and as Captain Coate's valet, Braintree, has disappeared too, it suggests that he may have been the one to have done it. There's some suggestion that he may have been after papers not money," he added.

Vernon Coate sat up straighter.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because a likeness has been noted between Braintree and your family, Captain," said Caleb, "and the idea that he's a base-born son of your father or grandfather."

The captain stared, open mouthed.

"Good G-d!" he said. "I – well, that was not something I would have considered! I – I did not notice a resemblance, I have to say!"

"It was noted in profile," said Caleb. "However, that's neither here nor there. We have to assume that this man Braintree is a dangerous man."

"He'll be miles away by now," said James Waynefleet.

"No, he has not left the house," said Caleb.

"How can you know that? oh pray, surely he has run far away, you frighten me!" cried Barbara.

"I would draw your attention to the curious matter of the footprints in the snow overnight," said Caleb.

"But pa, there were no footprints in the snow when I went out this morning," said Simmy.

"And that is the curious matter," said Caleb, waiting for the gasps to die away. "I knew that Braintree had not left the house after the attempt on the Major's life because I already knew that there were no footsteps in the snow. And the corollary to that is that he is still in the house. However, there's no guarantee that he's alive, or at least, not in fighting fettle. I do not rule out that there was a struggle in the study and that the major may have wounded him first. There _was _blood on the poker. Either someone smeared the major's blood on it to make it seem like the weapon used; or the blood belongs to Braintree and the major hit him first. There are those injuries which may seem insignificant at first but become worse as time moves forward; I have seen a man hit a jarring blow on the back of the neck who carried on with his duties for several hours and then suddenly died. A man hit on the nose might be able to hit back, but continue to bleed so much that he faints from bloodloss. The servants will be searching the house from attic to cellar, and I would ask you ladies and gentlemen to remain cosy in here by the fire and not to wander about too much – in case they make a horrid discovery."

"I think I'm going to faint," said Catherine, starting to rise.

"Stay sat down and let your head hang down, you silly creature," said Persis.

"Have you _no_ sensibility?" cried Barbara.

"Well I hope not, Aunt Barbara; sensibility makes women awfully silly," said Persis.

"Perhaps Mrs Waynefleet you might like to see Miss Waynefleet to her room and have a hot brick brought for her feet, and a cup of tea might be brought for her," said Jane. "There is nothing you might do; your brother is in the good hands of my Aunt Hetty and has every chance of recovering fully, even if he never fully regains memory of the incident that has laid him low. I cannot think that either of you have any information which might help my husband in his investigations."

"What could any of us know?" asked James Waynefleet.

"Why, it is entirely possible that one of you might have heard something in the night that seemed an innocuous noise, but which takes on greater significance in the light of this occurrence," said Caleb. "I need to know who last spoke to the major, whether he declared his intention of going to the study – things like that."

"He often goes to his study, sir; as we all know, so he would not speak of it specifically," said Thomas Waynefleet. "He is writing his memoirs, you know!"

"I did not, but it explains the habit of retiring for a while," said Caleb. "Can anyone add anything else?"

"I can," said Roger de Saumerez, "and I fancy it was my fault he was attacked and left for dead."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **

All eyes turned on Roger de Saumerez.

"My dear, with all your legal training, don't you think that was rather a rash remark to make to a Bow Street Runner, however much a gentleman he is?" said Phoebe, a trifle sharply.

"Perhaps Mr de Saumerez might like to elaborate on why he thinks it his fault that Major Coate was attacked," said Caleb.

Roger de Saumerez shrugged.

"It's simple enough," he said, "as my wife says, I received a legal training, before inheriting enough of a competence not to need to practice, and to indulge such avocations as horticulture, antiquities and literature. George asked me to look over a codicil he wished to append to his will, with regards to the position of Araminta, whom he hoped to adopt as his daughter, since it seems likely that some of the assets of her father are likely to be seized by the crown. She should still have a comfortable competence, but he wanted her to be totally secure."

"I understood that the assets were seized and held in trust, her being by way of a ward in chancery," said Caleb, "the incomes permitted towards her keep, which have been administered by a solicitor Sir Nathanial Conant found for her, but laws of inheritance that complex make my head spin, so I may have misunderstood."

"Oh, it may very well be so," said Roger, brightening, "but he wished to adopt her in any case, so that she felt she had flesh and blood as well as her, as you might say, adopted family of you and Mrs Armitage. I took the codicil with me to work upon for him, but when I left his study at around a quarter past eleven, he had the safe door still open, for he was considering which of the family pieces it would be suitable to have reset for Araminta, and which should be left for Vernon's wife, when he has one, and hence children. Phoebe and Barbara had their pick on attaining their majority," he added.

"Anyone see the major after Mr de Saumerez?" asked Caleb, wishing idly that his brain would stop playing tricks on him to want to call the poor man Roger de Coverly, like the dance.

"Yes, I dropped in on him on my way to bed," said Thomas Waynefleet, "and I don't recall if the safe was open or not. I wasn't looking, I had found one of his letters in the library that I knew he'd want for his memoirs; he said he'd been checking in the bound copies of the _Gazette_ for the facts as reported to compare to the memories of his correspondent, because there is often some considerable discrepancy."

"Not hardly surprising, on two counts," said Caleb, "the first being the rendering of an action into the dry sort of language required for a report and then having that converted into newspaper sort of speech, in which much might be lost in both conversions, like a peck of peas weighed twice; and the second count being that a man's memory is like any fisherman's memory, when the fish that got away grows with every telling of the tale. Witness accounts of any event can vary widely, because of what motivates the witness, and what is important to them."

"What do you mean?" asked Phoebe. She seemed genuinely interested.

"Well, Mrs de Saumerez, suppose you and your husband and daughters were asked about a couple you had seen walking out. I don't doubt but that Miss de Saumerez would notice if the lady were fashionably dressed, or dowdy, and what trim her clothes had, because even sensible young ladies are aware of such things; and she might remark if the man were young and if he were good looking. I have equally no doubt that your younger daughters would notice anything out of the ordinary or outlandish, and if anything about the couple did not seem true to the appearance they were trying to make, for youngsters are very good at seeing things their elders do not wish them to notice. They would tell you in an instant, for example, if he were wearing a Cumberland Corset," here the little girls giggled. Caleb went on, "your husband would doubtless be able to identify in English and Latin what flower the gentleman wore in his buttonhole, and if he noticed the lady, it might only to be irritated that any fabric flowers trimming her ensemble might be inaccurate."

"He's understood you very well, my dear," said Phoebe to her husband. Roger smiled.

"Indeed!" he said. "I would like to think that I might also notice if his cuff were frayed or shiny where he rested it on a table to read or write, marking him as a scholar – or a clerk for that matter," and he displayed his own slightly shiny cuff.

"Quite so," said Caleb, "most people notice what is within their own experience."

"And what would I notice?" asked Phoebe. Caleb regarded her thoughtfully.

"I believe, ma'am, you might be the rarest of people, an entirely objective and impartial witness who recalls what they see with perfect clarity and without exaggeration, though you might need help to bring it to mind," he said. "Jane is such an one. If she gives you the height and weight of a man, you may be certain he will turn out to be very close to her estimate. Many people, especially if subject to attack, will exaggerate the size and number of their assailant or assailants. It's part of my job to assess how much of what a witness says is exaggeration, how much is evasion – for people will omit to tell all they know for any number of reasons, most perfectly innocent – and how much is just vagueness. Thomas recalls handing the letter to his uncle and, I presume, discussing it in broad, and was more interested in discharging his duty in handing it on than in noticing the state of the furnishings of the room like the safe. Thomas, had your uncle got any jewellery on the desk?"

Thomas frowned.

"No, he had not, and he was busy writing. I cannot think he would leave the safe open before starting to write, it would be unlike him not to methodically put things away first. He's very meticulous, you see," he added. "He was short with me, beyond thanking me for my trouble, that is, his explanation was a little curt, for he was writing well, and he hates being interrupted when writing is coming easily to him."

"I understand you have been at some odds with your uncle regarding purchasing a captaincy?" asked Caleb.

"Well, I had been, but it wouldn't have been any point chewing old vomit when he was writing anyway," said Thomas. "It – it was just that I heard him discussing purchasing a captaincy with Sir Henry Wilton, and I'm afraid I jumped to the conclusion that it was for me. My uncle disabused me of the notion and said it was for a deserving man who should be promoted, who deserved a bit of patronage. I confess to having been a little disappointed, and – well, I presume I was overheard, so there's no point concealing it – I was rather short, and made my disappointment clear."

"I see; thank you, Thomas," said Caleb. "Your uncle is something of a philanthropist within the army, as is Sir Henry Wilton, with whom I have had the great pleasure to serve. I suspect he may be waiting for you to gain a little more experience before helping you to gain a captaincy. There's a big difference between being a lieutenant, who is essentially still at the beck and call of senior officers, and being a captain, who is more responsible for the lives and wellbeing of more men."

"Vernon is hardly any older than me, and he has had no real experience; he's only in the militia," said Thomas, a trifle resentfully.

"What do you mean, 'only'?" asked Captain Coate, angrily.

"Well, I don't grudge you the captaincy, but I do grudge a little that I don't have that rank when I've seen action, and you haven't," said Thomas. "But I don't resent it enough to quarrel over, Vernon, and I would never have thought to resent it at all, had I not foolishly allowed my hopes to be raised, and thence brought disappointment upon myself. A man cannot help but feel some disappointment, I think?" he appealed to Caleb.

"Oh, I quite appreciate that, lad," said Caleb.

"Well, I don't appreciate it, and I don't appreciate the imputations to my courage!" Vernon Coate shouted, standing up.

Caleb gently pushed him back down, not difficult from his superior inches.

"Captain Coate, there's rivalries a-plenty between the regiments, as well as between militia and regular army, and it ain't in anywise healthy," he said. "I sometimes wondered if we weren't making a gift to Boney with all the bickering; and nowise have I ever felt it good for grown men to carry on in such a way like children younger than young Daphne. O'course, being cousins, you and the lieutenant are likely to argue like brothers, but you'll appreciate _my_ point that as we have a murderous rogue to catch, I'd rather you did it on your own time, and not while I'm working. Thank you!" he added.

Vernon Coate glowered at him.

"Sorry, sir," said Thomas, instantly.

"Well, at least we are further forward," said Caleb. "Major Coate was planning to adopt Araminta – if our cove is indeed his natural, or his father's natural, he might resent that enough to want to be adopted too, and sought to steal the will and alter a codicil , if he knew it existed. The safe contains jewellery, and we cannot neglect that common theft was the major motive. It has been remarked that Braintree had a military bearing; and the likeness to the family remarked by Miss Bates might indeed be coincidental, and he held some grudge against the Major from having served with him – or in a regiment that held a rivalry to that of the Major, and he wanted to avenge some perceived slight or wrong. In which case, the theft from the safe may have been opportunistic. I suspect the major keeps the key on a chain with other keys, fobs and seals," he added.

"He does, and often I've remonstrated with him about it," said de Saumerez.

Caleb nodded.

"Well, that makes that possibility hold credence," he said. "I am, of course, working on the premise that it was Braintree who hit him. There may yet be another party who has, for reasons best known to himself, attacked both Major Coate, and Braintree. It is imperative that Braintree should be found, alive or dead. Very well, if nobody can add any more to the movements of the major last night, I shall leave you all, and go and assist the servants in a search for Braintree," he said, bowing to the ladies and nodding to the gentlemen.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Fowler approached Caleb quietly as soon as Caleb came out of the library.

"Mr Caleb, I would like you to see that Braintree fellow's room," he said. "Now allowing that Captain Coate might want his man to sleep in his dressing room as many do, which means there should be less signs of occupancy in the fellow's own room, you'd still expect there to be some sign of life, even if it's only the fellow's hair powder for his wig, as you wouldn't expect him to be putting on in the master's dressing room."

"Can't you?" said Caleb. "I can't say as I have much personal experience with liveried servants; to have a valet with a livery seems a bit excessive anywise."

Fowler sniffed.

"It's pretentious if you ask me, Mr Caleb," he said, "but however close a gentleman may want to keep his servant, the fellow will have his spare duds in the room allotted to him, and any spare wigs, and his hair powder, account of how the gentleman will want the dressing room used for his own accoutrements; stands to reason."

Caleb nodded.

"Yes, I take your point, Fowler. And there's every sign that this Braintree has upped sticks and gone?"

"Mr Caleb," said Fowler, "He's either the tidiest man alive as well as having upped sticks and gone, or he ain't never been there at all. Here, come and see!" he led Caleb to a room at the back of the house, near the back stairs. It was a small room with a bed, a wardrobe, and a commode for the usual offices, which had a folding mirror on top of it.

"Looks unoccupied," said Caleb. "No clothes in the wardrobe? I see no trunk, either."

"You hit the nail on the head, Mr Caleb," said Fowler, with gloomy satisfaction. "Not just empty – unoccupied. He ain't powdered his wig in here at all, because I defy any man to do that and not leave some powder. There ain't no spilled wax, and if you'll look at the candle, it's still a virgin thing out of the mould, not even had the wick lit. The chambermaid swears she hasn't emptied the utensil at all. It's not been moved out of the cupboard in the commode. The bed is made like the housekeeper likes them, and there's not a speck of powder from his neck on the pillow, nor the scent of sweat from a man's head through being enclosed in a wig. He's not left any washing for the laundry, and he hasn't had any of the men carry his trunk. For that matter, none of them recall carrying a trunk up, he came with nothing but a satchel."

"Well perhaps his livery and a nightshirt was all he owned," said Caleb. "Not very pleasant for Vernon Coate, though, for he'd be bound to smell after a while. Have you found his satchel?"

"No, sir," said Fowler, "and I've been through his master's dressing room too. If I hadn't seen the wretched man with my own eyes, and showed him how to go on, I'd swear he didn't exist at all."

"That's an interesting statement, Fowler," said Caleb.

Fowler shrugged.

"Well, exist he does; not much of a valet, I grant you, but he's been in the servants' hall, keeping his self opinionated self to himself, and none of the rest of us missing that company nowise, and I had to take over ironing half his master's neck cloths for he was making such a fist of it, anyone would think he'd never touched an iron in his life. What's more, his idea of brushing a coat was like an old maid dusting a risqué statue, tentative and without paying any attention, and he knew no better than to handle his master's boots without gloves!" he rolled his eyes in a speaking fashion.

"And no signs of him being stupid enough to powder his wig and so on in his master's dressing room either?" asked Caleb. "For if he's such a useless valet and knows so little, mayhap he don't know enough to realise he has a room for that purpose, and never has occupied it?"

"Mr Caleb, I never thought of that," said Fowler, chagrined.

"There's reason to suppose that this so-called valet might be the natural of one of the family, come looking for proof, which would be a reason for him to be so inept if it's only posing as a valet that he may be," said Caleb, "so we cannot suppose him to act as you might expect a valet to act, but only as he believes a valet to act. Let us look at the captain's dressing room."

Captain Vernon Coate's dressing room was not as tidy as Caleb would expect from a military man, and he said so.

"And as Braintree seems to have a military bearing, that's another discrepancy," he added. "It's almost as if he'd scrambled to get things put away somehow, as though he didn't have enough time."

"Do you suppose he's been skimping his work to look for something?" asked Fowler.

"What sort of something?" asked Caleb.

"Well if he's the natural of the major, he might be looking for some document, a secret marriage that legitimises him and disinherits Mr Vernon or something," said Fowler.

Caleb laughed.

"You read too many gothic novels, Fowler my lad," he said. "I fancy that one is a bit too fanciful."

"Well it might be that Braintree reads too many gothic novels too, and came up with the idea in a matter of wishful thinking," said Fowler.

"Well I suppose we can't discard that as a theory," said Caleb. "Bastard son, reads too much of the wrong thing, fantasises about what his real family might be…. at least Braintree don't have an idiot valet of his own dropping hints that he's the son of the Duke of York," he added with a sideways glance at Fowler.

"That was Mr Henry Redmayne's idea," said Fowler, hastily. "Well, you can't deny it had its uses, even if only to make that sour vicar's wife look like lemons is sweet."

Caleb laughed.

"Oh it's been highly amusing," he said, "and as I know who my father was, I have no need to make things up to make myself seem bigger. But it is something to ponder; I've known a few bastards in my time who have been known to make up stories about their real father. Can't really blame them at that," he added, "for no man likes to be rootless. And making up a spurious marriage and searching for proof for it ain't as wild as imagining noble parentage, nowise."

"No," said Fowler, "but you're right, it is a bit fanciful. It's just that there's something terribly false about him – sort of elusive, he never has been around as much as you might expect, because a valet usually has the evenings to himself until it's time to undress his master, at least if he's got everything sorted out, and it's customary to meet in the servants' hall and play cards with the other gentlemen's gentlemen, and boast about one's gentleman and tell wild stories and so on, while the gentlemen are occupied with their after dinner brandy, and their own diversions for the evening. And Braintree, he's been conspicuous by his absence."

"Well, now!" said Caleb. "That's interesting, right enough. Makes one wonder what he might be at during that time – or indeed if he even exists during that time."

"Suggesting he's a ghost is even more fanciful if you ask me," said Fowler.

"Oh, I wasn't thinking that, so much," said Caleb, "as to wonder whether that livery was to draw the eye, and the wig to hide someone's own hair; and whether any of those Waynefleet boys who all have the same profile might not have been cutting some kind of lark to fool their cousin, and have taken some kind of wager to see if they couldn't pass themselves off as a valet to him. Which puts a whole different complexion on what happened in the study."

"Strewth, yes!" said Fowler, "It's one thing having the major felled by a dubious sort of valet, but to be laid low by one of his nevvys, that's nasty."

"I doubt his head hurts more or less for who hit it," said Caleb dryly, "but yes, I take your point. Having murderous kinsmen leaves a bad taste in the mouth."

"You want to ask Mrs Jane what she thinks," said Fowler.

"Yes, I will," said Caleb. "Thanks, Fowler. Carry on with the search, in case I'm fishing up the wrong tree as you might say with that rather wild conjecture."

"It fits what we know, and what we don't," said Fowler.

Caleb called Jane out of the Library to confer; and Jane was glad to come. Though it was more comfortable with Mrs Waynefleet and Catherine in their own rooms, the wilder speculations of Helene and Daphne, and even Persis, all aided and abetted by Simmy, was becoming tedious. Daphne had just suggested that the vanishing valet had built wings like Daedalus and Icarus and had flown out of an attic window in order to leave no footprints on the snow, which theory Simmy was debunking on the grounds that wings would need weeks to build, and the footman had only been there a couple of days.

Jane joined Caleb thankfully in the study, and listened with a thoughtful look to the conjecture woven out of Fowler's testimony.

"I – I wouldn't say it was impossible," she said. "I came upon the man, who was partly in shadow, before it was light, and I fear I was not looking at him so closely save to be irritated that he kept putting his hand to his nose as though it were dripping. He might of course have been raising his hand to try to conceal his face a little, for fear that I should recognise him, of course," she added.

"That seems like a distinct possibility," said Caleb, "but being half dark, and with other distractions,

I suppose you can't hazard a guess as to which one of those young men it was?"

"Not really, I'm afraid," Jane confessed, "apart from the fact that I think I would have noticed if it were a beardless boy like Charles."

"Yes, I think he would have been easy to spot," said Caleb.

"I – no, I could not say," said Jane, "Though as others have commented on his military bearing, it would be more likely to be Thomas, would it not? James has no military bearing, he's all the farmer when given his head in conversation, in fact if I hear one more word about Dutch rotations, that he has been explaining to the company in the library, by way of dealing with his own nervousness, then I fancy I might retaliate with nauseating detail about the beauties of roller-printed cottons."

Caleb chuckled.

"I did wonder about young Nicholas, being the one most likely to kick up a lark," he said, "being the age for it. And being clever enough to fake a military bearing."

Jane shook her head.

"I really cannot say," she said, "but is there any harm in asking them and watching their faces?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Caleb ascertained that the search of the house yielded no sign of a missing valet, alive or dead, and proceeded to the library.

"I would like the attention of you all, if I may," he said, quietly.

All eyes turned to him.

"Have you uncovered some grisly remains, Mr Armitage?" asked Persis, cheerfully.

"No, Miss de Saumerez, none of the searchers discovered any sign of the missing valet," said Caleb.

"Depend upon it, the fellow was waiting and slipped into the study not long after Thomas had left, and fled the house before the snow stopped, and his footprints were covered. Either that or it snowed later in the night too," said Vernon Coate.

"Oh no, sir, it isn't deep enough," said Simmy, "If he had left and it had snowed on top, there would be partly filled footprints, but they would have been there. Unless he had some means to pass over the top of it somehow , like on a sled, but I don't think the ground slopes away enough to make a sled go, you know."

"I don't think there's a sled that he could use in any case," said Phoebe. "We had one when we were children, but Vernon didn't like sharing with his cousins when James and Thomas were small, and he burned it."

Caleb turned to look at the Captain in some surprise.

Vernon Coate turned red to his ears.

"Children get odd notions," he muttered.

"It's being an only child," said James, "Vernon don't like sharing anything very much. Never has."

"I see," said Caleb. "May I infer that you and Thomas do not get on particularly well with your cousin?"

James shrugged.

"Well, we outgrew our childish dislike of him, to learn to pity him for not having the advantages we have," he said.

"What do you mean, _pity_?" demanded Vernon Coate. "My inheritance is greater than yours, you have no advantages over me!"

"Yes I do," said James, "I have three brothers. And a sister, though at times it's hard to find advantages in that."

"What has not liking Vernon much got to do with anything?" asked Thomas. "Are you suggesting Uncle George was struck by mistake because of the family resemblance? I think that's doing it a bit too brown – and if I struck Vernon it would be face to face."

"Do you want to do him an ill turn?" asked Caleb.

Thomas shrugged.

"Not particularly. He has grown out of being tediously selfish and childish and manages to act genially enough. Why? I don't understand."

"The thought has arisen," said Caleb, "that perhaps with a wager involved, one of you brothers might have tried to pull the wool over the eyes of your cousin by pretending to be his new valet – which would account for the family resemblance as much as if he were the natural of one of the older generation."

The four brothers exchanged a look that united them in the disappointment of a chance missed.

"By Jupiter, that would have been famous, if we had only thought of it!" opined Nicholas.

"Armitage, do you really think I would not recognise my own cousins?" demanded Vernon, who had gone pale and was fingering his moustache nervously.

"Well, that would be why it might have been done by way of a wager," said Caleb. "I suppose it may depend on how often you see them; and how fond they are of getting up plays, such that they understand the importance of acting a role. Where servants are concerned, most people note the livery, not the face; and that made even more likely by the wearing of a wig, like some old fashioned footmen. Braintree might have had hair of any colour under that wig, and moreover, the different style of hair alters the shape of the face, as the ladies can tell you."

"Indeed yes; and men are such unobservant creatures, generally," said Jane. "A schoolroom miss, dressed demurely and with her hair in plaits might be ignored by gentlemen callers who, a few weeks later, are queuing to dance with her, when she has her hair up in a flattering style, and without any awareness that they passed her by without noticing such a short while before. Men have less choices in the matter of hairstyle than women, but even so, the wearing of a powdered wig will make a man look older as well as giving his face a different shape to that if it is surrounded by the curls of the Titus, like you, Thomas."

Thomas Waynefleet grinned.

"No need to sound so disapproving, Mrs Armitage, it's sheer indolence that I can't be bothered to keep it as short as the Brutus," he said. "I take your point, though. Pulling it all backwards into a queue is going to make quite a difference. But it wasn't me," he added, running his hands over his cheekbones to draw his own hair backwards.

"No, it isn't you," agreed Jane, looking at him carefully. "And even allowing for the ageing effect of a wig, I'm fairly certain it was not Nicholas or Charles either," she added.

"I wouldn't want to wear a wig, it might damage my hair!" declared Charles.

"He's too young to carry it off, in any case," said Nicholas.

James shrugged and gathered his own short locks to push them backwards.

"Behoves me, I suppose, to prove it wasn't me," he said, "Though it puzzles me what we might have to gain in hurting Uncle George."

"Well on the surface, and with Thomas' explanation over the matter of the captaincy that was purchased, I can't see anything either," said Caleb.

"Excuse me, _why_ did you think my cousins might be masquerading as a valet under my nose?" demanded Vernon Coate.

"Why did I think they might, or why did I come to the conclusion that the valet might be an imposter?" asked Caleb.

"Either! Both!" said the captain, crossly.

"Well, that the valet was not what he seemed, and was no valet, was apparent, from his lack of ability in caring for your clothes," said Caleb, "and that he had never spent any time in his room was quite apparent too," he added.

Vernon Coate goggled.

"Well, if he has managed to leave, he would not have left any sign of his possessions," he said.

"But it's a strange man who never lights a candle, doesn't pare his nails, or use the usual offices, or place his wig on the commode, even if he doesn't re-powder it," said Caleb. "No signs that he had ever been in there, nor that he had a sufficiency of clothes with him to carry out a masquerade for more than a day or two. He was no real valet. That he was never seen by the other servants in the one time he might have had to relax for an hour or two, that is when the gentlemen of the house were taking their brandy and entertaining themselves for the evening, was highly suggestive that he was needed at this time too."

"Are you implying that he was a gentleman? Preposterous!" said Vernon Coate.

"I wager I'd have remembered to use his room," said Nicholas Waynefleet.

"I hope you would have better taste than to carry off such an imposture," said Vernon Coate. "Armitage, has it occurred to you that there is another type of person who might be expected to be kept busy during that time, who might not know the duties of a footman?" he demanded.

"I don't claim omniscience," said Caleb.

"Well, so you should not; almost blasphemous," grunted the captain. "The footmen are also busy then, carrying out the dishes, bringing brandy, and helping with putting the dishes away when they are washed. What more natural than for him to be posing as a different kind of servant?"

"It's an interesting theory," said Caleb. "I have not questioned the servants over whether there has either been a new footman, or one of their number behaving oddly by pretending to be a valet. They, after all, are going to recognise each other more readily because it is not the livery they notice first. I will explore this possibility, but I fancy it is a slim one, or one of those I have been using in the search is likely to have come forward."

"Is it possible, sir, that the valet might have dressed as a footman temporarily, after wounding our uncle, seeing that the snow would give him away, and then left only after there had been people trampling about outside, when his escape was less obvious?" suggested Thomas. "That's what I would do; a _ruse de guerre_ as it were."

Caleb looked upon him with approval.

"Well, lad, if you can think that clearly and well, you won't need to buy your promotion, for you'll likely earn it," said Caleb. "Though it don't cover why he wasn't being sociable with the other valets," he added.

"Sir, if he was an impostor of any kind, he might fear to socialise, in case anyone penetrated his disguise – a bold villain, but not quite bold enough," said Thomas, eagerly.

"A good point," said Caleb. "Though he had already alerted the suspicions of my man, at least, for being unable to perform his duties. And the deficiencies that he displayed were such that were not those of a man accustomed to any kind of menial work. I confess myself much puzzled about this man; and indeed we have no guarantee that it was he who struck down Major Coate, though it looks likely, for it is hard to believe in coincidence. And the safe has been emptied of the jewels and papers. I fancy that I must test your idea, Thomas, and turn out the stable servants while there is yet light, and seek for footsteps in the snow leading away from the house, away from the confused jumble of prints now surrounding the various exits."

He left the library with Jane.

"You aren't expecting to find any, are you?" said Jane.

"Oh, are you coming to think what I am thinking, Jane-girl?" said Caleb.

"I believe so," said Jane, outlining her own hypothesis. Caleb nodded.

"It fits the facts and the motivations," he said. "Proving it might be hard."

"Perhaps we might let it be known that the major is expected to regain consciousness by the morning, and that he is sleeping comfortably enough to need no-one to sit with him," said Jane. "Aunt Hetty is generally quite loquacious, and she also adores being helpful. If I ask her to chatter about how much better the dear major is, I am sure she will manage to give just the right information. And then we might wait in his room for out culprit to make his move."

"Fowler and I will wait in his room, Jane-girl: you'll have nothing of it," said Caleb, firmly. "He's a dangerous cove…. Oh, very well, but leave the rough work to Fowler and me."

"I would not dream of doing anything else, my masterful husband," said Jane, demurely.

Caleb could only think of one answer to that, and Jane found herself well kissed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The stable staff were none too happy to be turned out to seek for fleeing footsteps; though when Pigeon recognised Caleb he gave him grudging respect as a man who had helped seize a highwayman masquerading as a groom, as well as Pigeon's erstwhile master; Caleb had sworn affidavit that Pigeon had no part of any illegal actions. It might have gone ill for Pigeon, and the simple minded stable lad, Derkins, had not Caleb given such a deposition, and Pigeon at least appreciated it, even if he disapproved, as he said, with a spit, to his fellows, of gentlemen getting themselves up disguised as grooms and indeed having anything to do with Bow Street.

It took up most of the afternoon, and was, as Pigeon reported to Caleb, a fruitless affair as there were no footprints to be found.

Caleb smiled grimly.

"Oh, finding nothing is a finding too, Pigeon," he said. "When a horse has a tender hoof and you don't find a stone in it, you know something else has caused it."

Pigeon stared.

"Arrrr" he agreed in his country idiom.

Caleb handed over several coins.

"Reckon the men will need a drink for their efforts," he said.

Pigeon pulled his forelock.

"Reckon they'll toast your good health and success," he said.

Caleb, who had searched no less hard, though with no expectation of finding anything, came in to warm his hands by the library fire.

"Any joy?" asked Samuel Waynefleet.

"None whatsoever," said Caleb, "but as several of us have been down to the village, a clever man might have put his feet where others trod, and in the confused tangle of feet in a village, might easily have slipped away. I can account for every trail of footsteps to the village, but if he were so bold a villain…." he shrugged.

"He is away then, and you have little expectation of catching him?" said de Saumerez.

"As a matter of routine, I will circulate descriptions of the jewellery, and I will ask Jane to produce a sketch of the fellow, as she saw him face to face," said Caleb, "however, I believe we might get more information soon, for I believe the major's condition has improved. I understand Miss Bates might tell us more in a short while as my wife's dresser has relieved her at his bedside."

"He will definitely recover, then?" said Vernon Coate. "My poor father! We can but hope such a blow has not robbed him of his wits!"

"Oh there was no bleeding into the brain, I assure you, Captain!" said Jane. "I have spoken to Aunt Hetty, and she purposes to join us shortly, and be ready to go into dinner with us. And if the good major makes a rapid recovery, dear Araminta and Persis, er, and Catherine, will not be robbed of their ball, or indeed an ice ball if the lake holds! I understand that there are young men in the neighbourhood who also have sisters, so that the young people present will not be confined to the company of their siblings and cousins too!"

Caleb smiled approval on his bride, who could give every appearance of being as inconsequential and fulsome in her speech as her dear Aunt Hetty; and her words also told him that she had apprised Miss Bates of what was required.

De Saumerez approached Caleb quietly.

"Your pardon, Mr Armitage," he said in a low tone, "but I cannot believe that even if a bold villain placed his feet in the footsteps of others, that it would not show to a man trained in observation like yourself; and that indeed, for a man who believes that his quarry is gone to earth, you are remarkably blasé."

Caleb smiled grimly.

"Mr de Saumerez, you might say so, but I could not possibly comment," he said.

De Saumerez looked at him thoughtfully and nodded.

"You plan to trap him then? It might risk my brother-in-law."

"Sir, I hope not," said Caleb. "You will pardon me if I do not discuss any precautions I take."

"Oh, understood," said de Saumerz. "It will be a nasty business, scandal for the family."

"I planned to take steps to preclude there being a problem," said Caleb. "I have one or two ideas how to bring this about without whisper of scandal in any large degree."

De Saumerez nodded.

"For my own part I care little, but it would upset my precious flower," he said, nodding at Phoebe. Caleb wondered briefly how much of this attitude to Phoebe was an act for matrimonial harmony; and in sudden revelation recognised that de Saumerez was quite serious – and equally that Phoebe, for all her air of capability might be indeed quite upset, even if she did not wear her heart upon her sleeve as her sister Barbara did.

Miss Bates tripped into the room at this moment.

"Has my father regained consciousness, Miss Bates?" demanded Vernon Coate.

"Oh, Captain Coate! I would not say he has _exactly_ recovered consciousness, for that would be an exaggeration and far too _optimistic_!" said Miss Bates, "but he has shown some signs of being aware, having moved, and grunted, and put up an arm to block the light of the candle; and that is a _very good_ sign indeed, for it shows that his sight is unimpaired, does it not? the light hurts his head, I make no doubt, for the _pain_ from that wicked blow, but he is sensible enough in his understanding to try to _block_ what it is that is hurting, and so preserve himself from _pain_. Naturally as soon as I understood what he was about, I moved the candle, and he made a noise that can only be described as a grunt of _relief_!"

"But he has said nothing?" asked Vernon, intently, "he has not yet been able to throw any light on his attacker?"

"Oh no, Captain, not yet," said Miss Bates. "Indeed he appears to have fallen into a natural sleep rather than being _unconscious_ and I suspect that when he wakes in the morning he will be _perfectly sensible_ and not as inchoate as he presently is, though you must be _patient_ for indeed though he might recall everything leading up to his attack with _perfect clarity_ it is also _quite_ possible that he will recall nothing at all for several days. Blows to the head are such dangerous things, of course, and he may need help before the blessings of Mnemosyne are upon him!"

"The blessings of who?" said Vernon Coate, confused.

"Mnemosyne, the mother of memory and mother of the muses," said Phoebe, tartly. "Miss Bates referred to helping him regain his memory but used classical terms. Have you forgotten everything you learned at Eton, Vernon?"

"I don't recall bothering to listen to all those Greek chaps," said the captain.

"Well, it's your loss," said Phoebe, shrugging.

"Do you have much experience with head wounds, Miss Bates?" asked Roger de Saumerez.

"Why, as it happens, I do have _some_ experience, gleaned through my life," said Miss Bates. "As the daughter of the Manse, I was of course _expected_ to bring succour to anyone in the village who might be sick or wounded, and I recall _several _ occasions on which a blow to the head was the nature of the sickness, not all of whom recovered, for alas, the doctor would not go out to the _poorer_ members of the parish, and some of the folk remedies were rather _ primitive,_ and indeed almost smacked of _witchcraft_ if you can believe that, in this day and age, but of course, country folk can be so very _backward_ in many ways, and inclined to _quite inappropriate beliefs_ despite the teachings of the church! And of course, there is the recent example of the poor fellow who Jane nursed on her _honeymoon_!" she added.

De Saumerez looked at Jane with a raised eyebrow. Jane smiled a deprecating smile.

"The poor man collapsed at my feet just as we came out of the church, calling for sanctuary," she said. "He had quite lost his memory, and we had to use clews from his clothing and speech to find out who he was, for he did not even know his own name. We were able to prompt him as we found out more, and apart from the immediate few minutes preceding the blow, he was restored to full memory, and able to testify against the rogues who had laid him low."

"He recalled enough to identify them then?" said Vernon.

"Oh! yes," said Jane, "for they had been threatening him and he recalled that. Caleb has also seen head wounds on the Peninsula, and he tells me that nobody ever recalls receiving them, but some people may recall more or less of what led up to them. I am certain your father will make a full recovery, and if he can remember anything about why Braintree should be in his study, it may help Caleb to track him down. But it is another day tomorrow!" she added, and then as a seeming afterthought, "Aunt Hetty, will Ella need to sit with him overnight?"

"Oh, my dear Jane, I do not think so!" said Miss Bates, "unless this murdering valet is still at large, of course, for then someone must watch over him. He is able now to lie on his side, and I cannot think he is in any more danger of vomiting, and hence drowning in it. He has cast up his accounts the once, you know – I forgot to tell you – which was how I knew he was coming round. I washed him of course and induced him to swallow a mouthful of water too. He will do very nicely!" she added.

"The murdering valet appears to have left the house, using the footprints of others to conceal his egress," said Vernon Coate. "You need not fear to leave him, unless your vast experience fails you, and he is like to die suddenly."

"Oh, it is always _possible_ of course, if there is bleeding in the brain that has been _missed_," said Miss Bates, "but now he has stirred, I have to say, I think it _highly unlikely_!"

"Well then, we must hope that you are right," said Vernon Coate, "and that he will be able to give a cohesive testimony soon."

"I say, I don't want to sound as though I am whining," said Thomas Waynefleet, "but if I was the last person to see him, when I took that letter to him, suppose the last thing he recalls is me? might he think I struck him?"

"I think it unlikely that he would associate anything as innocuous as discussing a letter with being attacked," said Caleb. "It is, however, quite useless to speculate what he might, or might not recall until he is able to speak. Shall we go in to dinner?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Dinner was a meal filled with speculation; Barbara and Catherine joined the company, and it may be said that Catherine was overjoyed that her uncle might yet make a full recovery so that the promised ball might yet occur.

"Even if he will not fund a season for me, at least I might have the experience of dancing with people to whom I am not related," she said, tossing her head.

"Catherine, I thought you prided yourself on your sensibility?" said Persis.

"I am the very soul of sensibility!" declared Catherine.

"Well, don't you find a want of sensibility in dwelling on pleasures rather than even the most passing sympathy regarding poor Uncle George?" said Persis, sweetly. Catherine flushed.

"It is not the same thing at all!" she said. "Miss Bates and Mrs Armitage have assured us that he is going to be quite recovered before long. Has that murdering valet been apprehended yet?" she asked with an artistic shudder.

"Not yet, Miss Waynefleet," said Caleb.

"Your brother Thomas is of the opinion that he may have trod in the footsteps of others," said Araminta, "in order to get to the village. I am not perfectly sure why he should do so, for if he is claiming to be some lost heir, then he would surely wish to remain to collect his inheritance; and if he is not, then he would have no reason to take papers from the safe. It is all a matter of complete contradiction, and I am not satisfied that this is what happened, and that it is not one of your brothers playing a practical joke that has gone horribly wrong."

Catherine gave a little scream.

"You are wicked to say so!" she cried.

"No, none of us thought of it, alas," said Nicholas. "Catherine, do act your age! Anyone would think we were the sort of nasty little prigs who never cut up a lark to hear your studied outrage! But Mrs Armitage has seen Braintree and is certain that none of us were him, Cousin Araminta, so I fear you theory is sadly out!"

Araminta glanced at Jane, who nodded.

"It looks as though Braintree has indeed left the house," Jane said. Her eyes held Araminta's for a moment.

"Oh," said Araminta, realising that Jane did not want that line of enquiry pursued.

"I don't really understand, if that man is at large, why are you not out there pursuing him, Mr Armitage?" demanded Barbara.

"And could you suggest where I might pursue him, Mrs Waynefleet?" asked Caleb.

"I don't know; it is your job, surely, to pursue him wherever he is gone!" said Barbara.

"Mr Armitage has no idea of what direction Braintree might have taken, if once he won to the village; and how should he?" said Samuel Waynfleet, with heavy patience. "I believe he spoke of pursuing enquiries regarding the missing jewellery; you should help by describing it, in case Phoebe has forgotten any of the pieces."

"I doubt Phoebe could describe any jewellery that does not feature as horse furniture," said Barbara, spitefully.

"A thorough description is always useful," said Caleb, equably, "I have of course taken steps to send the brief description with which Mr de Saumerez was able to furnish me to appropriate quarters. Any man selling jewellery that he cannot prove a provenance for is like to be suspect in any jewellers shop. He must either risk that, or take a fraction of its value from a fence."

"A _fence_? What has a garden feature to do with it?" asked Barbara.

"Your pardon, ma'am; it is the term used for a man who deals in stolen goods, himself obviously a crook, who will pay a small fee to thieves for what they bring, knowing how to arrange to have stones reset, or how to carry such things out of the country, so he may profit from their lack of such knowledge and contacts," said Caleb.

"I should think that if a gentleman turned fence he would be a dangerous criminal," said Charles, forgetting to be filled with fashionable _ennui_.

"Aye, lad; and indeed the first case which Jane and I worked together involved such a man – who was not just involved in fencing, but was a highwayman too, despite being a knight of the realm. He fooled my dear wife's first husband into working for him, by the expedient of coercion, and caused him to write out documents as if for Lloyds of London, for insurance purpose, of the spurious new pieces put together by mixing the stones from several stolen geegaws. He was known as Sparkler Jack," he added.

Charles flushed in admiration.

"You are the runner who caught Sparkler Jack? Why, sir, I read all about it, and I am honoured! Just wait until the chaps at school hear that I've met you, why they will be green with envy!" he said.

Caleb chuckled.

"It might have ended up with me taking another ball from his too-ready pistol had not Jane shouted to look out, it was Sparkler Jack, when he did not know that she and I had divined his identity – the shock was enough to make him freeze."

"Did you shoot him?" asked Charles, eagerly.

"No, I threw him down the stairs, carrying with him his jewel-cutting partner who was right behind him, and into the arms of my men," said Caleb. "He might have died if I'd shot him and I wanted him to hang for the trouble he had caused Jane, widowing and frightening her."

"I recall being more angry than frightened, most of the time," said Jane, mildly. "I did not have much time to be truly fearful."

"But then, Jane-girl, you're a woman in a million," said Caleb.

"Quite like a gothic novel," said Catherine with a little sniff.

"Not at all like a gothic novel," said Charles, "For the women in them are generally fairly useless creatures, a bit like you, Cat, and not Trojans like Mrs Armitage!"

Jane hid a smile. Apparently the youngest Waynefleet boy was at a susceptible age, and was ready to admire her for not being at all what his sister would consider womanly.

"I'd like to know how either of you know what a gothic novel might be like," said Samuel Waynefleet with some show of severity. Catherine tossed her head.

"Why, papa, everyone reads them!" she said.

"One of our chaps purloined some from his sisters' governesses," said Charles, "And I hope that Cat doesn't read anything like _The Monk_ for that is quite unsuitable for ladies!"

"Not to mention tedious," said Phoebe. "Yes, I've read it, to see what all the fuss was about; a waste of time. I salute Mrs Armitage, who is a resourceful woman, and, as you say, Charles, not in the least like the vacuous and vapid creations of the Gothic novel, with stupid names like Monimia and a tendency to faint at any time it would cause their idiotic heroes the most inconvenience."

"I usually only faint when there is time to do so after the worst is over," agreed Jane. "And only the once, I have to say!"

"Oh, but my _dear_ Jane, you must not forget that you were in an _interesting condition_ at the time too!" said Miss Bates.

This was enough to revolt the younger males of the company enough that they were happy to turn the subject and address themselves to the viands set before them without further encomiums on Jane's disposition. Jane might have preferred that her Aunt Hetty had not presented the table with such a conversation stopper, but was not, in other ways, displeased to divert the conversation. Having a youthful admirer was disconcerting!

The adults returned to the subject of Braintree and discussed, fruitlessly, where he might have gone, and whether he might have been the offspring of the major's father, with Barbara firmly declaring that their revered parent would not have behaved in such a way.

"You can't know that, Babs, so do stop making yourself sound foolish," said Phoebe. "You were coming out and I was in the schoolroom and I doubt either of us would have noticed. Papa came from an entirely different age; they were dashed loose in the haft in his young days, and if he was once a loose screw, I don't suppose age cured that."

Barbara was left spluttering in outrage at that frank, and not very proper speech from her sister, leaving Helene and Daphne the opportunity to filch the plate of meringues from right under her nose and share them dextrously between themselves and with Simmy, and with due consideration, Araminta.

"Do you think this fellow is truly related to the family, Armitage?" asked Samuel Waynefleet.

"Oh, I don't think there's much question of it," said Caleb. "The matter of looks, and what was taken, and the manner in which things were done show clearly that he was a member of the family. The degree of relation might not be entirely as you surmise however; and that remains to be seen."

"Will you be able to find him, though?" asked Waynefleet.

"When the snow goes, all paths will be clear," said Caleb, cryptically.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Barbara.

"Oh, only that in due course, if he wants to make use of what he took, there are only so many options left open to the fellow," said Caleb. "Well, de Saumerez, a game of chess before bed?" he suggested. "I'd as soon not linger over the port."

"I'd be delighted," said Roger de Saumerez. "You play a reckless, but quite brilliant game."

"I like winning," said Caleb, "but at least in a game, I can enjoy the play as much as the overall result."

"Which is why your reckless play often pays off," said de Saumerez.

The proposed skating being postponed while the major still lay insensate, Helene suggested a game of lottery tickets to the other youngsters, and though it was plain Charles was tempted to decline, he unbent to amuse the youngsters, as he put it, and was soon as diverted as the rest bidding for fish.

Jane and Miss Bates retired quietly at the same time as the children, and Jane took her pistol with her to keep vigil with the major.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Davenport? Davenport, is that you? my _head_!" cried the major, as Jane entered the room.

"No sir, it is I, Mrs Armitage, Davenport is resting, he has been sitting with you," said Jane. "I am glad that you have regained your senses, though I fear that if you have retained your memory of the events that led to your wounding, you must feel very bitter."

"Dear G-d!" cried the major. "Is it indeed so that I recall such?"

"I fear so, sir," said Jane. "Though we – my husband and I – hope to avert a scandal in one way or another. Indeed, supposing you likely to remain comatose overnight, my presence here is a part of a plot to make your would-be killer reveal himself."

"You think he meant to kill me?" demanded the major, wincing.

"Every indication suggests it, I'm afraid," said Jane, regretfully. "I fear there is every chance that he will come to your room tonight to finish you off before you regain consciousness and tell what you know."

"I recall us having a conversation when we first met, Mrs Armitage, to the effect that I hoped that the last of the bad blood had died with my brother," said Major Coate, bitterly. "It would appear that my hopes were not fulfilled. Indeed, I confess when I spoke, I had the thread of fear that all was not right when he had been known to have jealous rages in his youth. I had hoped he had grown out of it; though I planned to scotch any plans he might take it into his head to make, to marry Araminta as a way out of my making a will partially in her favour. He appears to have taken the other expedient," he added dryly. "Mrs Armitage, I feel as weak as a kitten and as sick as a cat. Can you, of your goodness, hold some water for me to sip? And then, if you are equal to this, and your husband expected, I fear I will fall asleep at you."

"Major Coate, I consider you the strongest of men to have managed so much speech," said Jane, slipping a capable arm under the sick man's shoulder to raise him to drink.

"Hmm, stubbornness, not strength," he managed. "So, how have my sisters dealt with me being laid low?"

Jane laughed.

"Oh, Barbara suffered spasms, which I cannot but suspect were caused by the disappointment to Catherine if she should not have a ball; and Phoebe came close to coming quite apart in fear for you. She is, however, of sterner stuff than that and was instrumental in the initial work that preserved your life."

"She's a good girl, is Phoebe," murmured the major, his eyes closing and his speech slurring as sleep began to claim him. "A good sister," he managed to add.

Jane smiled demurely.

"And in her idiom, let the arms of Morpheus receive you in healing sleep," she said.

Caleb and Fowler came in shortly after that, and Jane apprised them in a low voice of her conversation with the major.

"Well, Jane-girl, I don't deny it makes it easier to know that the poor fellow already knows the score," said Caleb. "You stay well back now: I'm expecting things to happen about an hour after the last person retires to bed."

"That would make sense," said Jane, "to allow everyone to be in their first and deepest sleep. Dear me, in a way I hope he does not make such a move; very unpleasant for the major."

"More unpleasant for him if cully has bubbled our lay, and don't take the bait," said Caleb, lapsing into cant. "Then he can try again at more leisure."

"I think he's too arrogant to refuse the bait," said Jane.

"Ho, yes!" agreed Fowler. "He has the ego of Boney if you ask me."

"I'd have said personally that it stemmed from feeling as though he had not measured up, so he had to make grand gestures to show off, myself," said Caleb, mildly.

"Comes to the same thing," said Fowler.

The wait was as tedious as such always may be; Jane found herself starting at small noises at first, whether caused by others of the company going to bed, servants leaving their masters and mistresses for their own domains after undressing them, creaks on the stairs as the house settled, and the startling noise and unpleasant smell from a small fall of soot in the chimney, doubtless loosened by snow penetrating the pot and melting in the heat of the chimney. Fowler grunted and would have taken up the poker to riddle through the soot had not Caleb laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"The chamber next to this is unoccupied," he said, softly, "and if our man waits in there, he will hear any noise in this grate through into his."

Fowler nodded and resumed his waiting position.

Jane felt almost as though she could scream to relieve what was both boredom and sheer unrelieved tension. Doubtless soldiers felt like this as they waited to go into battle, waited for the first shot to be fired or orders given that released them from the waiting that was like being a wound spring in a timepiece.

And then the door opened softly, and a figure slipped inside.

Jane and Caleb had discussed what means might be tried to kill the major; and Caleb had opined that something as crude as shooting or stabbing would be eschewed, in an effort to make the death appear natural, and to therefore lay the blame on Jane and Miss Bates for an inaccurate assessment of the Major's chances. It was unlikely that there might be poison readily available to put in the major's water jug, for it was not a season in which to kill wasps, which was generally the most readily available poison that anyone not acquainted with chemistry might know; and Caleb was lugubriously satisfied that it was his suggestion of simple suffocation that was to be used, the dark shadow placing a pillow over the major's sleeping face.

Caleb unshuttered the dark lantern he had with him.

"Not a good idea, Captain Coate," he said.

Vernon Coate whirled round, and Jane deftly twitched the pillow away.

"DAMN you!" cried the Captain.

"More than likely," said Caleb, genially. "You won't be the first to wish that upon me, and I doubt you'll be the last. Petty, ain't it, to kill your father to stop him adopting Araminta so you have to share what is, after all, a sizeable estate?"

"It should all be MINE!" cried Vernon Coate. "How _dare_ he adopt a cripple brat who is never going to amount to anything? Haven't I given up the chance of a career in the regular army to keep the family name safe?"

"No, I think you used that as a fine excuse," said Caleb. "I don't think you had the stones to face battle, but that's just my opinion."

The Major's voice came weakly from the bed.

"He has always felt that he did not care for a career in the regular army, and he has never accepted that to me, it did not matter, so long as he did not choose to do something he could not fulfil or that he would shirk his duty over. I had rather he had a distinguished career in the militia, who have their necessary place, than that he place himself in a position where he might disgrace himself for not being able to deal with the realities of war. It is not given to every man to do so, and I feel no censure in any man who cannot do what I have found no hardship."

"Well said, sir, and a better attitude than many a military parent; and one I applaud," said Caleb, "and therefore, I fear, I despise the more the man who could not appreciate his fine and unusual parent."

Vernon Coate bared his teeth like an animal at bay.

"You cannot prove I was not just inept in laying a pillow to help my father breathe," he said, "What makes you think I was in league with my valet, Braintree, who is the real villain in this piece?"

Caleb reached over and ripped off the false moustache.

"Because you _are_ Braintree, the real villain in this piece," he declared. "You quarrelled with your valet and dismissed him on the barest excuse, so that you could set up the identity of a man who never existed. Your habit of fondling that excrescence you fondly call a moustache gave you away, though Jane at first mistook your reaching for a growth which was not there for a man with the sniffles who poked at his runny nose. It was a gesture that she recognised ultimately for what it really was. You have set out to murder your father and lay the blame on a man who has never had any existence in reality. You gave yourself away as well in the fact that Braintree was never in the servants' hall when the gentlemen were gathered together, not to mention his general ineptitude. You are revealed for what you truly are, a common murderer."

"My father will not wish another scandal after that wretched girl's father has plunged the family into opprobrium!" declared Vernon Coate. "You dare not act!"

Caleb shrugged.

"I would prefer not to see you stand in the dock," he said, "especially since attempted murder is not counted as the same as actual murder, so the inept villain is favoured."

"How dare you call me inept!" thundered Vernon Coate.

"Because you are, you toy soldier," said Caleb.

"By G-d, sir, you'll meet me for that!" cried Coate.

"At your service," said Caleb. "I thought you'd never get there without a few really deadly insults."

"Caleb!" cried Jane. Caleb shrugged.

"One way to save Araminta's family any more shame," he said. "I, after all, have done my target practice on Frenchmen. I could think of no better way out without it coming to trial, and I must needs take my chances that the family will prefer it thus and would not press a charge of illegal duelling."

"A moment," said the weak voice of the major. Weak it might be, but it still had the power to penetrate the conversation and dominate the room.

"Sir?" said Caleb.

"Might I offer my son a choice – for by his face he had just realised that you purpose to kill him?" said the major.

Caleb bowed.

"If you have a better solution, I pray you, sir, outline it. I have no wish to undertake a fight that would be like fishing in a barrel," he said.

"I think that my son is overcome by a desire to do some real soldiering in India, and would like to join a regiment serving there," said the Major, and there was steel in the weakened voice. "I think he will pack ready to leave tomorrow with that in mind, and that perhaps you will take my letter of recommendation to the colonel of the 47th Foot."

"Father!" cried Vernon Coate.

"I would rather not see my only son die," said Major Coate, "in the army overseas, you will have every chance to distinguish yourself and maybe overcome this pettiness that makes you behave in this foolish and jealous way. Which will it be?"

Vernon Coate scowled, thwarted at every turn.

"I will join the 47th Foot," he muttered, sullenly.

"Good," said the major. "I thank you, Captain Armitage, for being prepared to take that onto yourself, and I quite see that you preferred not to trust my son's word that he would never undertake such an act again. I fear that if you had done so, I must have advised you not to believe his word, for I do not, any longer, have any trust in him. You will escort him to town to undertake the necessary arrangements and purchases?"

"I will, if Lieutenant Thomas Waynefleet will bear me company," said Caleb, grimly.

"I am sure he will be ready to do so," said the Major. "Now I pray you all leave me; I am fatigued."

Caleb almost manhandled Vernon Coate out of the door.

"Don't even think of doing it," he said roughly.

Coate stared at him in horror.

"Are you the devil incarnate that you know my thoughts?" he cried.

Caleb laughed.

"If it makes you more comfortable to think so," he said. "I can read what you are thinking as though you spoke."

The last bubble of arrogance broke in Vernon Coate at that point, and he sobbed like a child; and Fowler and Caleb took him firmly to his room.


	17. Chapter 17

**Epilogue**

Jane was left to explain the night's events after Caleb had roused Thomas Waynefleet betimes, and the three men had set off in the Major's carriage for London.

Roger de Saumerez nodded.

"I was right, then," he said in some grim satisfaction. "I feared that there was no other explanation. I hope that a spell in India may do Vernon some good, but I fear that it will not."

"I expect he'll quarrel with some other officer and end up killed in a duel," said Nicholas. "I can't say I'd grieve."

"You mean he demeaned himself to pose as a _servant_?" cried Barbara. "How _could_ he?"

"By shaving off his moustache and assuming a wig as a disguise, with livery so that none noticed his face," said Jane, deciding to take that foolish rhetorical question literally. "He had at stake the whole inheritance of his father's estate; he took the will in a hurry in case it was a new one, or in case there was a legal codicil with regards to Araminta, and he took the jewellery to make it look like a simple robbery on the part of man who had inveigled himself into the house as a servant. Doubtless he planned to pretend to pay someone for having 'found' the jewellery at a later date. It was the death of his father and the removal of any will that were his main purpose; for a man who dies intestate will leave his son as the automatic legatee. It did not matter if the will were not found, even if the Major had not yet altered it. As we know, Mr de Saumerez has the codicil in his possession, as yet unsigned, but Vernon Coate did not know this. And he was prepared to go to any length to prevent Araminta having even part of the estate."

"Oh, that is horrible!" cried Araminta. "Do you mean that if Uncle George had not wished to undo the evil my father did, by mending the rift in the family, that Cousin Vernon would not have tried to kill him?"

"I wouldn't bet on Vernon not having found some other reason to take offence and try to kill George, my dear," said Phoebe, giving Araminta a brusque hug. "If you ask me, he's as wicked and loose in the hilts as ever your father was. I'd advise you not to marry any of your cousins, it might start it all up again with another generation," she added.

"I certainly would not want that," said Araminta. "Thank you, Aunt Phoebe. I would hate to be the cause of something so horrible."

"You ain't the cause, just the push that got the ball rolling this time," said James Waynefleet. "And if it hadn't been you, like Aunt Phoebe says, it might have been something else."

"Well, it's most uncomfortable all round," said Catherine, "and if Uncle George is still an invalid, when Mr Armitage and Tom return it means we shall sit down thirteen to dinner, which will be most inauspicious!"

"You're a goose, Cathering," said Persis. "Not only are you ridiculous to be so superstitious, but you have forgotten Simon, Helene and Daphne, who bring the numbers to sixteen."

"They scarcely count!" whined Catherine.

Simmy exchanged looks with the girls, and three young voices chanted,

"One – two – three….."

"Brats," said Phoebe, cheerfully. "Mrs Armitage, can you assuage Catherine's fears with regard to a ball?"

"Indeed, yes," said Jane, "For Major Coate has decreed that the lake should be tested, and if the ice holds, impromptu invitations are to be sent out for this very evening."

Catherine gave a little shriek.

"Why it is already almost noon, I must get ready!" she cried.

"Well that's her out of the way," said Persis. "Come Minty; you and I do not need so much time to prepare, let us take a turn outside to watch the preparations."

Jane watched Araminta walk out, arm in arm with her cousin, the limp scarcely troubling her in her strengthening boot, and she smiled.

Araminta would do very well now, with real family and with self confidence too.


End file.
